


Feeding the Demon

by Annika_H



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Whump, Demon Blood Addiction, Demon Dean Winchester, Gen, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Sam Winchester Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 13:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13904895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annika_H/pseuds/Annika_H
Summary: Takes place during 10x03. Demon!Dean had bigger plans for Sam than just killing him, but Sam might just wish he had. Dean takes advantage of Sam's old demon blood addictions, bringing them back to the surface. With the bunker in lockdown, Cas has no way of coming to the rescue, this time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS:  
> • SPOILERS up to Season 10, episode 3 “Soul Survivor”.   
> • MILD SWEARING
> 
> The lines and actions at the beginning are taken straight from the episode, with some additions on my part. The differences come in soon, though, as I didn’t want to simply repeat what you have already seen.
> 
> Who else thinks Dean did not stay a demon long enough, or have enough time with Sam while being a demon? I liked what they did in the show but felt that there were more possibilities!

I force myself to set the pictures back on the table, taking a moment before standing and exiting Dean’s room. I make sure to turn the lights off and close the door carefully. It will be there for him when the cure works.

Trudging back to the basement storeroom where I left him, I try to push Dean’s words from my mind. I know I can’t trust anything he tells me, because this isn’t really _Dean_ at all. He’s been taken over by the Mark, and I’ll be damned if I let him stay this way. The human blood is working, or at least I hope that’s what it’s doing. I can’t ignore the nagging fear that the treatments are actually killing him, rather than cleansing him. But with no other options available, there’s nothing else I can do but continue.

I take a deep breath before rounding the corner. What I see makes my heart jump in my throat.

The chair remains in the center of the Devil’s Trap, but there’s no one in it. Dean’s gone. And I’m screwed.

I waste no time in scurrying to the end of the hall, hunter training kicking in as I scan around me to check for my brother. No sign of him, so I move on. My heart is beating far too fast, its thundering reverberating in my ears.

I know I have to shut the bunker down before Dean escapes, so I go as quickly and quietly as I can to the desk that holds all of the keys to the place, and then make my way to the electrical controls. I flip the switch and the lights begin to blink red, the warning signal echoing throughout the bunker. I know it’s a dead giveaway of my location, but it’s more important to make sure that Dean can’t get away.

His voice - his but different, lower - makes me jump. “Smart, Sam!” My sweaty palm slips off the lever as my eyes flicker towards the door. How close is he? “Locking the place down...Doors won’t open. I get it, but here’s the thing...I don’t wanna leave - not till I find you!” I can hear his footsteps in the hall now, but I’ve already started moving, slipping out of the door and down another hall. Where I plan to go, or how I’m going to make it out of this, I don’t know. Dean might be locked in, but so am I. And if we’re locked in, all chances of help are also locked out.

“Sammy!” Dean shouts, using the familiar nickname in his new, dangerous tone. Sweat has broken out across my brow, but I just try to keep moving, even though I have no destination planned. I have my knife, but I don’t want it to come to that...If I could just get to some holy water... “You’re just making this worse for yourself, man!”

Though I hate everything he is saying, it is better for Dean to keep talking so I can keep track of his position. The last thing I want is to be jumped by surprise. I change my course, headed towards the dungeon. If I can get a hold of my holy water and trick Dean back into that chair, hopefully both of us can come away with as little injuries as possible. “Oh, by the way you can blame yourself for me getting loose. All that blood you pumped into me to make me human, well, the less demon I was the less the cuffs worked. And that devil’s trap, well, I just walked right across it. It smarted, but still...”

My blood runs cold. Dean’s voice is far too close now, which means I misjudged his location. I curse internally. It would be easier if it was anyone else, but Dean - demon or not - knows the bunker even better than I do. I start booking it for the dungeon, trying to stay quiet but also aware that I’ll never make it if I keep on with that slow pace. 

Dean stopped talking, though, and I can’t hear his footsteps anymore, either. I pause for a moment, holding my breath in the hopes that I’ll be able to locate my brother. My skin is crawling; goosebumps making the hairs on my arms stand on end. With only a moment's hesitation, I slip as stealthily as possible around the corner, almost to my destination. 

I shout in surprise when I see Dean before me, and duck as he swings a hammer at my head. It gets caught in the plaster of the wall next to me, but he seems undeterred, throwing a punch to my side. The impact knocks me into the wall, and another cry of pain escapes me as my wounded shoulder is smashed between my body and the tile.

I recover quickly, swiping my knife through the air to rest threateningly at his throat. My breath catches, and I try to steady my shaking hand, forcing him against the wall. “Dean, please, I know you’re in there. Don’t make me do this.” I plead, looking into his eyes imploringly.

“Well that’s too bad for you, isn’t it?” He scoffs, not seeming phased at all by the weapon under his chin. “Because you really mean that. The thing is, Sammy...I don’t believe you’ll do it. You don’t have the heart to kill your big brother, do you?”

“I will if you leave me no choice, Dean.” I insist. Dean’s eyes narrow threateningly as a smile spreads across his face.

“Then do it, baby brother.”

I tighten my grip on the knife handle, steadying the blade against his skin as my hand shakes. “Dean, you can beat this, I know you can.” 

“Has it ever occurred to you that I don’t _want_ to be cured? I like the disease, Sammy. Hell, it beats hurtin’ every day over some crap or another. And it sure is better than listening to your problems and trying to fix them for you. When are you going to take responsibility for your hand in the chaos, huh? You’ve killed just as many as I have. And remember all the times you were too weak to win? Like with Ruby, or when you lost your soul? You’re a murderer, same as me. Now Sammy, make a decision. Quit stalling.” 

“I never wanted to hurt anyone, and neither did you. Just let go, Dean. We were making progress!”

Dean answers with a sly smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes, which flick to black. “Time’s up.”

He swipes his foot behind my knees, sending me stumbling back. I throw a punch, but he grips my arm, holding it fast in the air between us for a moment before twisting it behind me. I cry out, trying to fight against him but the demon inside is giving him supernatural strength, squeezing so hard that tears spring into my eyes. In the next moment he is holding the knife against my exposed neck, reversing the past positions. 

“Dean, please -” I clamp my mouth closed when he presses the blade against my skin, drawing blood.

“Shut up, baby brother, and walk back to the dungeon. Don’t you want to have some quality play time?”

It doesn’t take long to reach the empty chair, and Dean wastes no time in shoving me down on it. The moment he removes the knife to retie the ropes around my wrists, I make to jump up. My move was predictable, however, because I’m stopped by a strong grip on my injured shoulder. Dean presses down firmly, forcing me back into the seat with a grunt.

“Easy now, Tiger,” he chuckles, squeezing harder. I hold back the shout of pain, only letting a whimper escape. Dean reaches over me, fastening the ropes with strong knots that force the course material to dig into my wrists painfully.

The lockdown siren is still blaring through the halls, the red light sending an ominous color over the room. “ _Wow_ , that sound is annoying,” Dean complains, looking out to the hall.

“Then turn it off, if it bothers you so much,” I bit back, hoping he won’t think on my words too much.

“Do I look stupid to you?” Dean laughs, shaking his head. “I know you called Cas over here, and with the place in lockdown, he ain’t gettin’ in. No matter how much you pray.” He smiles, patting me affectionately on the cheek. “Face it, Sammy, you’re stuck down here with me. Should have run when you still had the chance.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask, voice shaking slightly, eying Dean cautiously as he makes his way towards the table still holding the human blood.

He turns to me with a smirk on his face, holding up an empty syringe. “I think I’ll return the favor you were doing for me. You really aren’t yourself anymore, Sammy.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, confused. Unsure of what the answer will be, but scared all the same. 

“Just hold still, little brother. I know you don’t like needles.” It’s then that he sticks the syringe into his arm, drawing his own blood out before advancing towards me. “Now the effect may be a little bit different with all of this human blood you’ve been injecting me with, but I think the demon stuff will still come through, don’t you?”

“Dean, no!” I protest, eyes widening as he grins wickedly.

“Come on, Sammy, I know you miss the rush,” he whispers before pushing the needle into my arm.

“ _Don’t!_ ” I bellow, trying to pull away but unable to because of the tight bonds. Dean pushes the plunger of the syringe down, sending the demon blood into my system. A warm feeling accompanies the injection, like there’s a hint of something there but I can’t place my finger on it.  

“Now was that so bad?” Dean taunts, pulling the syringe from my arm. That’s when I really feel it, the small yet sudden rush of power spreading through me. It hurts like hell, and I cry out, squeezing my eyes shut as the pain stabs through me. “Oh come on, Sammy, don’t get all weepy on me now!” 

“Dean, stop, please!” I beg, gritting my teeth against the sensation inside. 

“No can do, brother,” Dean dismisses, drawing more blood from his arm. “See, you’re no use to me as a weak human, but with your mojo pumping? That’s a different story. We can make somewhere with that.” He reaches for my arm again, but I kick out with all the force I can muster, taking advantage of the fact that he never bound my legs. My boot collides with his stomach, sending him stumbling back a few paces.

“Now that’s just rude, Sammy,” Dean tuts, straightening up again. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners? Oh wait, that’s right - she’s dead because of you, isn’t she? That’s why I had to take care of your sorry ass all your life. Now take your medicine, Sammy, and the pain will stop.”

He comes towards me again, but I kick the syringe out of his hand. It falls to the floor, shattering against the concrete and allowing Dean’s blood to spill in rivulets. Dean and I stare at it for a moment before meeting each other’s eyes. My chest is rising and falling rapidly, unsure of how he will react.

To my surprise, he turns and exits the room. He’s only gone for a moment, however, coming back in another coil of rope. On his way back to me he picks the knife up from the table where he left it after setting me into the chair. He points it at me casually, approaching slowly until the tip of the blade rests against my chest.

“Kick me again and my hand may just...slip,” Dean’s words are demonstrated as he drags the blade in a line down my chest. I grunt in pain, closing my eyes to help hold the shouts in. “Got that?” I say nothing, instead focusing on steadying my breathing. “I said: got that?” He shouts, grabbing a fistful of my hair and wrenching my head back with his free hand. He pricks my cheek with the tip of the knife dangerously. 

“Yes,” I hiss, watching the blade out of the corner of my eye.

“Good,” Dean snarls, pulling the knife back. Without warning, he slams it down towards my thighs. I shout in panic, anticipating the excruciating pain, but there’s only a loud thump. I look down to see the knife’s tip embedded into the chair between my legs. My breath is uneven, palms and forehead sweaty as I look back up to meet Dean’s icy gaze. “Next time I won’t miss,” he warns, before binding my ankles tightly to the chair legs.

I try to calm myself, knowing that panicking won’t help me in the least. I need to keep my head and come up with a plan. I can’t let Dean give me anymore demon blood. I know from experience that it won’t take much to send me back to addiction. Each relapse comes faster than the last. 

“There, that’s better. Nice and comfy, now, baby brother?” Dean laughs, smacking my face hard, sending it whipping to the side. “Alright then, let’s get back to this.” He yanks the knife out of the wood, and I can’t help but flinch. Dean just smirks and makes a clean cut on his arm; drawing drops of dark blood to the surface.

My heart thunders in my chest, my throat constricting. All the while I can’t take my eyes off of the blood, and some unbidden part of me longs to taste it. I shake my head decidedly, trying to cast the treacherous thoughts from my mind. “No.”

“Open up, Sammy,” Dean coos, bringing his arm closer to my face. I turn my face resolutely, clamping my mouth closed. “You only made it harder for yourself by breaking the syringe,” Dean insists patronizingly. “Come on, Sammy, you can do this. Just one taste.”

I shake my head, refusing to answer verbally. Dean sighs dramatically before lashing out with his free hand, gripping my jaw harshly. I try to pull away, but he clamps down harder, forcing my mouth open before smashing his arm against it. Though I continue to fight, I can’t stop the blood from meeting my tongue. The smell of iron is all too familiar, the bitter taste overwhelming me.

With each drop that makes it down my throat, a pang of power and pain hits me. I struggle as much as possible against my bonds, the course rope digging harshly into my wrists. Dean is saying something softly, urging me on.

And suddenly he is pulling away. I take heaving breaths of air, snapped out of my daze. I can feel the blood dripping down my chin, and look down to see that my wrists are bleeding from the ropes, as well.

“What did I say, Sammy? The rush felt good, didn’t it? How about some more, huh?” 

I want more, the hunger burning in my stomach, my hands itching to reach for the knife and draw more blood myself. The power is exhilarating, a rush to my system like no other. But I _can’t_. I _can’t_ let Dean turn me into the monster I once was. I know it’s pathetic and pointless, but I shout anyway. “ _Cas!_ _Cas!_ ”

Dean starts laughing, head thrown back. “He’s not coming for you no matter how much you call. You locked him out remember? This place is warded against angels, so there’s no way that one in as bad a shape as Cas could ever get in. Just give in, little brother-”

“Stop calling me that!” I shout, renewing my struggles against the tight bonds. 

“Don’t be like that, Sammy. It will all stop hurting soon, trust me.”

“Dean - Dean, _please_...” I trail off, my breath hitching, eyes narrowing as Dean makes another cut on his wrist. He pauses, crouching down in front of the chair so we’re at eye-level.

“What was that, Sammy? Please _what_?”

“Please don’t...” I gasp, another rush of power cutting me off. My head has started to pound, the blood so close but not close enough. _No_. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. How much has been forced into me? It feels like a gallon but it can’t have been that much yet and _that’s_ the thing that scares me the most.

“You’re gonna have to give me more than that,” Dean’s eyes glint as they flick to black for just a moment. I shake my head, which ends up being a terrible idea as another torrent of pain shoots through my skull, making me shout. “Do you want more, Sammy?” Dean’s voice filters through the pain, his face wavering in my watery gaze.

“Yes -” I gasp automatically. “ _No!_ No more!” I say hurriedly, eyes widening.

Dean leans forward, gripping my arms as his face draws closer to mine. “Look at you, Sammy...Begging already. I had no idea you were this weak. You must have really been jonesing for it, after all these years. Well here you go, then.”

I barely struggle this time, simply attempt to turn my head away and keep my mouth closed, but Dean patiently pries my jaw apart like he did before. His wrist is at my lips the next moment, and all too quickly I find myself leaning forward, sucking, trying to get more of it.

The darkness consumes me even as my mind protests against it. Tears are rolling down my cheeks, blood filling my mouth. I hear a loud crash from the corner, and Dean pulls his arm away to look. The metal table was thrown to the side, but there’s no one in here but us.

“You see that, Sammy?” Dean laughs, looking at my bloodstained face and laughing. “That was all you!" 

“No.” I whisper, shaking my head slowly. “No, that wasn’t me...”

“Oh yeah? Well you keep telling yourself that. In fact, I think I’ll let you have a little time to process this. Find me when you need some more, alright?” Dean comes over, taking my head in his hands. Instinctively I turn towards his still-bleeding wrists, but he pulls it away. “That’s all for now, Sammy. It’s good to have you back.” With that he leans down, placing an affectionate kiss on my hairline, just like he used to do when we were kids and I had a nightmare.

And then he leaves, even though I shout for him to come back.

“See you later, Sammy! Just call when you’re ready.” He shouts back without taking his eyes off the exit.

At some point the siren is turned off, and suddenly Cas and Hannah are beside me, untying the ropes and easing me out of the chair. My legs can’t support me, and I tumble to the ground. 

“Sam, it’s going to be okay, just let me support you,” Cas insists, putting my arm over his shoulder. Hannah does the same on my other side. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“What happened?” The female angel asks apprehensively, voice soft. 

“How much demon blood did Dean make you drink, Sam?” Cas asks me, concerned.

I’m completely dazed, not comprehending their words. All I hear is something about blood, and that needy itch inside comes back. “More?” I ask pitifully, turning to Cas.

His eyes are wide, worried. “No, Sam, I won’t let you go down that road again.”

Something sparks to life in me, and I shove the angels away. “It’s not up to you,” I say darkly, standing up taller.

“Sam, calm down, we’re here to help you!” Cas insists, reaching out a careful hand.

  
Hannah tries to take my arm again, but I push her away, sending her to the ground where she falls with a loud _thud_. I’m about to turn on Cas, but before I can stop him his eyes glow blue and his hand rests on my forehead. And just like that I’m out and everything is black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the rest of this story I will be doing something cool I saw TiTivillus use in their story "Blood Pact" (a great Supernatural fanfic that I highly suggest you read!). They gave two options for where the next chapter would go, and left it up to the reviewers to decide which they would prefer to read! I'd base it on the majority vote. If you have any ideas that I did not provide, I'd still love to hear them! I can't guarantee they'll make it in but I might like them so much that I incorporate it!
> 
> NOTE FOR READERS: I originally began this story on Fanfiction.Net, so the options have already been chosen up to chapter 14! I hope that after that point when voting is open you will be interested in contributing! :)

My throat is raw from screaming so much. It feels like it's been months of pain, unrelenting thirst, and nightmares, but Cas reassures me that it's only been two weeks. Still, two weeks is more time than it should take to recover from the small amount of blood I drank.

At least Cas was able to heal my shoulder with his stolen grace so I'm out of that stupid sling. I'm already weak enough; I don't need another handicap. I don't fully understand the explanation he gave me of how he got his grace back, but I'm thankful for it, either way.

My head is pounding, but that's nothing new. It beats the living hell I've been going through while the blood gets out of my system. It was just as terrible as I remembered it: visions accompanied by too-realistic-pain of my insides burning, skin cracking, bones shaking...But the worst parts are always the mental ones. The moments where I'd see Mom, Dad, Jess, Bobby...

Telling me how I'd let them down. That I should have fought harder. If I had been smarter none of this would have happened...If I had just gotten to Dean before Metatron did, it would have all been okay. My brother's blood is on my hands...

And all the while, echoes of Dean's biting words reverberate in my mind. Maybe he had a point about me being a monster...After all, I've done some really messed up things. I've killed so many, hurt so many...Lost so many. So many lives could have been spared if I hadn't gotten hooked on demon blood. It's always that same thing, coming back again and again, each time pulling me away from my loved ones. I wonder how many innocent people would have been spared if Dean had taken me out all those years ago like Dad told him to.

"Sam?" Cas asks hesitantly, knocking on my bedroom door. I blink, coming out of my thoughts.

"Yeah," I reply half-heartedly. The angel enters, classic concerned look on his face.

"How are you doing?"

"Not good," I say honestly, internally wincing at the frustrated bite in my tone.

"You know the things Dean did...They weren't really him. And whatever he may have said, it wasn't true -"

"-Yeah it was, Cas."

"Sam -"

"-No, Cas," I interrupt with an exasperated huff. "You weren't around when I was looking for Dean. You don't know what I did."

Cas' eyes widen, and he comes closer. "What are you saying, Sam?"

"I'm just saying - look. I don't want to talk about it right now." I know I shouldn't be pushing the angel away, but I don't want false words of comfort. All I want is Dean back to normal. Is that so much to ask?

Cas puts his hand on my arm comfortingly. "I know you're tired right now, Sam, but you must let me help you."

"Damn right, I'm tired!" I snap, rising to my feet. Cas' hand falls from my arm, and he gives me that look that therapists give when they think they understand you. "I watched my brother die, let him slip away, found out he was a demon, and let him shove blood down my throat! And for what? To let him get away because I wasn't able to fix him? And now I've just spent two weeks tied down to a bed because of the same damn addiction that ruined my life in the first place! So yes, I'm tired, and angry, and upset, and I don't feel like being consoled right now."

"Sam -"

"You know what? I'm going out," I say decidedly, pulling my jacket on and grabbing Ruby's old demon-blade from my dresser.

"Where?" Cas asks with concern, face scrunched up.

Unusual irritation courses through me, fed up with Cas at the moment. "Where do men usually go to blow off steam, Cas?"

"I don't think intercourse will give you the help you need, Sam -"

"-The bar, Cas," I sigh, running my palm down my face. "I'm going to the bar."

"You have alcohol here, Sam. I don't think you are well yet..." Cas presses on.

"Yes, but the bar has something that I can't get here."

"What's that?"

I look at Cas pointedly before brushing past him and out the door. "Silence."

I down my pint of beer. It burns on the way down, more so than usual. I shudder; the alcohol making it's way through my system, tingling in a funny, yet not unpleasant way. I gesture for two more glasses, and the bartender complies, giving me a lingering glance. Probably thinking I must be pathetic. I know I look the part, hunched over my drink in the same plaid shirt I've worn the past two days. I haven't showered since then, either, so I know I must smell.

I was so close to curing Dean and getting my brother back, but I failed. Now he's disappeared again, no clues left behind. He took the Impala; so left I'm driving the same old red pick up truck that I used last time he bailed.

I failed my brother because I let my guard down. If I had just stayed in that room - didn't leave out when his taunts became too much - I could have stopped him from escaping. Instead I decided to give myself a moment to calm down and walked out. That moment of weakness led to all of this. If I had stayed we could be at this bar together, coping with the past events over some cheap beer.

And the worst part of it all is the hunger that still burns in my chest. It gets better the more beer I drink, so I finish off the second glass. The shock from the alcohol beats the shame and guilt that eats away at me, so I've continued drinking. It's too much - all of it. And I can't carry it anymore, not like I used to. I'm too worn down by everything.

The bartender - a muscled, tall guy with a full head of hair and bushy beard - and I are the only ones left in the room, so I know it must be late and I'll soon be kicked out. Downing my last drink, I fish for cash in my wallet, head thudding dully. The beer must have really taken its toll on me, because there's a light sheen of sweat on my brow and my hands are shaking slightly. Maybe I should just call a cab and come back later for the truck. It's a piece of junk anyway.

The bartender has finished cleaning up and comes to my spot at the bar counter, putting his hand out to stop me as I make to hand him the cash for my bill. "Drinks are on me," he says casually.

"What?" I ask dumbly. Bartenders  _never_  offer to pay the bill. I know I look like hell, but plenty of men come into bars like this. Warning bells start ringing in my head, and I stand slowly, hand going for the knife hidden in my jacket.

"Easy now," he reassures calmly. "We'll get violent if you really want to, but I'm going to win."

"Who are you?" I demand, backing up towards the exit. I jump in surprise when some tables and chairs move of their own accord, barricading the door. The man just smirks at me. "A demon then," I straighten up, fighting against the alcohol in my system. "Well sorry to break it to you, buddy, but I'm a Winchester, so I know how to kill monsters like you."

The man laughs loudly, eyes flicking to black. "Sorry to break it to  _you_ , Sammy, but I'm a Winchester, too. So forgive me if I'm not  _wowed_  by that training you're so proud of, since, well, I've got more of it than you do, what with you playing hooky with some good for nothing lawyers for three years." My breath falters, heart skipping a beat.

"Dean," I say with foreboding. So he's been watching me the whole time as I tried to drink away all my issues. That's reassuring. "What do you want?"

"I was really hurt that you never came to see me, baby brother," Dean says with a pout, coming out from behind the counter, throwing his dirty rag down. "I thought you cared more...Maybe you'd want to see me..."

"It's out of my system again, Dean, so you can forget any 'plans' you may have had for me, because I'm not interested."

Dean laughs again, shaking his head. "Aw, come on now, Sammy. I know you, so I know that even after two weeks in lockdown you still have a hunger for demon juice. It's always gonna be a part of you, no matter how hard you fight it."

"That's not true. I've overcome it before, I can do it again," I growl, eyes narrowing.

"Well, Sam, you know what they always say...Don't accept a drink from the bad guy," Dean smiles, coming closer.

"What? No..." My eyes widen in realization, the knife shaking slightly in my hand.

"You didn't even stop to wonder how a rundown good-for-nothing bar like this one got beer that good? Or how you downed three pints like it was nothing?"

"I'm a full grown man. You've had more than that," I argue, inching farther away from Dean.

"Yeah, and then passed out from it," Dean laughs. "Now, I'm not a math expert, but I figured it out: three glasses, each with ten ounces of actual beer in them, the other six ounces being demon blood. That's what, 1.5 pints of your so-called  _poison_? That can't be good for your whole AA deal, can it?"

"That's nothing," I reply a little shakily. "I can fight that!"

"Really?" Dean scoffs. "You think so? 'Cause I don't. Now come over here, we'll pick up my  _real_ body from the back room, and then leave together. No fuss." He spreads his arms wide, as if to reassure me. But I know Dean too well...Can see through him even if it's not his body. He expects me to put up a fight.

"Not gonna happen," I growl, raising the knife and preparing myself for the inevitable. I know I'm not in the utmost condition, what with the mixture of beer and demon blood in my system, but I don't have a choice. I try not to concentrate on the fact that as a demon Dean can easily kick my ass, not to mention the Mark giving him an extra edge...Except that he doesn't have it right now, I realize suddenly. So long as Dean stays in this meatsuit, he doesn't have the Mark on his side.

"This will all be easier if you cooperate," Dean says, almost boredly. "But don't doubt that I'm willing to hurt you, Sammy, because I will. A busted nose, a fractured wrist, maybe a couple broken ribs...Those mean nothing to me, but I bet they'd mean a hell of a lot more to you, huh?"

My mind is whirring, years of hunter's training tuning me in on all of the possible exits and outcomes. I don't want to take Dean on, because I know I don't have it in me to kill him, even if I'm left with no choice. And what he said was true: he does have more training than me. I went away for three years, but he never stopped hunting. He was always more dedicated to all of it than I was. I may not be weak in any sense of the word, but Dean is stronger.

If I can make it out back I at least stand a chance. Escaping out the front isn't an option. I know I won't have time to move the barricade of tables and chairs Dean blocked the main entrance with. I don't know how many exits this place has, but I can't afford to be hopeful and have it cost me.

"What is it that you want from me? I don't understand your motive. One minute you want nothing to do with me, the next you want to end me, and now you want me hyped up on demon blood? What's in it for you?" As I speak, I inch slowly towards the bar, holding the knife out in front of me, keeping my eyes on Dean.

"Aw, come on, Sammy, it'd be no fun if I gave away all my secrets, would it?" Dean asks, tilting his head to the side.

With a quick glance to the side, I see that Dean and I have rotated in a circle, almost trading positions. This is the only shot I've got. Taking a quick breath, I dart down the hall and towards where I know the back exit must be, not stopping to look behind me. I've got one chance to make it out, and I can't waste it.

A black cloud comes rushing after me, making my heart skip a beat as I run faster, exit sign within my sight, if only a little blurry due to the alcohol. The thump of the bartender's body falling to the ground only confirms that Dean is going for his own.

I burst out through the back door and into the crisp night air, making a beeline left towards the parking lot. A heavy weight slams into my back, sending me crashing down onto the concrete. The breath is knocked from my lungs, chest aching from the harsh impact, hands scraped from trying to brace my fall.

Dean flips me over roughly, landing a strong punch against my nose. I grunt loudly, blood trickling down my cheek, a thundering pain emanating from my face. I struggle, landing some punches, but Dean quickly puts a stop to that, grabbing my wrists and pinning them harshly against the ground. The concrete gravel painfully digs into my skin as Dean exerts more pressure, making me grunt again as I fight against him.

The knife slips from my hand as Dean squeezes harder. I put as much strength as possible into the kick that slams into his gut, effectively forcing his body off of me. I scramble to my feet, sprinting for the red pickup. A gunshot blares from behind me. I jump, expecting the excruciating pain of a bullet.

But it never comes. Instead I see the front tire of the truck burst with a loud  _pop_ , the air rushing out. The Impala is parked in the shadowy corner of the lot, and I change my path, running there instead. I reach the car, fighting with the handle of the driver's door, but of course it's locked. I curse my muddled mind before whipping around, ready to run again.

Suddenly I'm looking down the barrel of Dean's pistol, which is leveled at my face. I wasted my precious time, and now I'm out of options.

"Hands up," Dean growls, pulling the safety back.

"You won't shoot me - you want me alive," I reply shakily, not moving an inch as I try to regain my breath.

Dean lowers the gun a little, only to point it at my shoulder. "How much are you willing to bet on that?" he threatens, eyes boring into my own. "You just got out of the sling; can't imagine you'd be too eager to get winged again..."

He's right, of course. And even though I've had worse than a bullet to the shoulder, I know better than to press my luck. I need to be smart about this if I'm gonna make it out. "Alright, you've made your point," I whisper. "Now what?"

Dean's free hand darts out, taking me by surprise as he tightens it around my right wrist. I try to pull back, but he squeezes harder, lip curling. Without warning, he jerks my hand, sending a sharp wave up my arm. I hear the bones of my wrist break, and I cry out, tears rushing to my eyes at the sharp pain. I try to pry Dean's fingers off with my uninjured hand, but he applies more pressure, a fresh current ricocheting along my arm.

He uses that moment to shove me against the Impala, leaning over me menacingly. "That was for running," He growls before snapping a pair of handcuffs on my pulsating wrist. "I told you I'd bust your nose and fracture your wrist...Now do you really wanna add broken ribs on top of that? 'Cause I could go for days -"

"-No," I gasp, wincing at the pain of the metal scraping against my injury.

"Good," Dean lets me go, steadying his gun against my shoulder as he fishes the keys to the Impala from his jeans pocket. "Don't move."

I oblige, standing silently while Dean unlocks the doors of the car. I let him shove me to the passenger door and into the seat, and don't fight back when he attaches the other cuff around the inner door handle.

He settles into the driver's seat, locking all the doors before starting up the engine.

He turns to me with a wicked grin on his face. "Just like old times, huh, little brother?"

I stare ahead out the windshield, opting for silence, trying to think of a way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took way too long for me to figure out the alcohol tolerance Sam would have, plus how much of what he drank was beer and how much was blood. At first I had him drinking whiskey and he drank so much that he would have died...oops.
> 
> So here are the options for chapter 3! Let me know what you would like to read! Again, if you have ideas other than these, or that could go along with them, please let me know!
> 
> Option 1. Sam makes himself throw up the demon blood from his drinks, and Dean is so mad he makes Sam drink more, making him dependent on it again.
> 
> Option 2. Sam and Dean are jumped by a gang of demons. Dean overpowers them all, but Sam is unable to resist drinking some of their blood. It's then that he realizes the Mark makes Dean's blood special.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read on to see which option won!

It isn’t until I jerk awake that I realize I had fallen asleep at all. It’s very dim out, the sun barely peaking over the hills in the distance. My head aches dully, after-effects from the alcohol. An involuntary groan falls from my lips, and I instinctively make to feel my throbbing nose.

The clink of metal and an angry pain shooting up my arm remind me of my fractured wrist. Looking down at it, hissing softly. My wrist is bent unnaturally, covered in purple, nasty bruises from Dean’s unforgiving grip. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty!” My brother’s voice makes me jump, head rushing to turn in his direction. I knew he was going to break the silence, and yet his outburst still takes me by surprise. 

“How long was I sleeping?” I ask tentatively, shifting to better support my throbbing wrist against my leg.

“Couple hours” He replies cheerfully. My heart clenches. It’s disconcerting how normal this setting is; sleeping in the passenger seat of the Impala while Dean drives, poking fun at how ‘adorable’ I look when I’m sleeping. It’s been awhile since we’ve joked like that, the events of the past few years having taken a toll on us both. “Boy, that beer must have really done the trick, huh, baby brother?” Dean grins at me, but it’s not right. The look in his eyes has a dark glint to it

“Don’t call me that,” I grit out, eyes narrowing.

“Aw, come on, _Sammy_ , don’t be like that,” Dean laughs, punching me in the arm. I flinch back out of instinct, switching to a defensive position. This just makes him chuckle more, shaking his head. “Look, I’m not looking to hurt you. Really. You just gotta loosen up, man! Don’t be so tense all the time!”

“What do you want with me?” I ask slowly, glowering at Dean. I’m sick and tired of his demonic games, the way he keeps toying with me.

“All in due time, Sammy,” he says vaguely, giving me a wink. It only infuriates me more – not knowing what’s going to happen, what my _brother_ has to gain from pumping me with demon blood. The fact that Dean of all people would use my biggest shortcoming against me hurts more than anything else. After everything we’ve been through together, I’ve lost him, and now I’m paying the price. 

“This isn’t you, Dean,” I insist. Pleading seems to be the only thing I can do now. There’s no point in fighting back – not with my broken wrist on top of Dean’s clear advantage of demonic strength.

“Not this again,” Dean grumbles, rolling his eyes. “I’d rather keep listening to your obnoxious snoring than the same old ‘I can save you’ crap.”

“Look, Dean, I know there’s still some of you in there that knows this isn’t right –“

The Impala suddenly jerks off the road, jolting to a stop on the curb. Dean shifts the gear to park before reaching out and grabbing me by the collar of my jacket. His eyes have flicked to black, boring into my own. I stare back, a pang of fear in my chest as my heartbeat quickens.

“I’m only going to say this one more time, so you better listen damn well, got it?” Dean growls, shaking me in his iron grip. “No matter how much you think you can save me, you can’t. You seem to be under some impression that your brother is hidden inside me somewhere, and you just need to convince him to come back. Truth is? I _am_ your brother, and no matter what you do, that’s the truth. This is how I am – hell, this is what I was always supposed to be! And you may be too weak to come to terms with that now, but you will - and the sooner you do, the better for both of us.”

“No, I won’t. We’ve made it through too much for me to give up on you now.”

If it’s possible, Dean’s face gets even deadlier. He pushes me back roughly, making my head collide with the passenger window. “Listen to me, you good for nothing piece of crap. I don’t love you; hell I don’t even _like_ you. I’m still your brother but I’m so much more than that now. I was _weak_ before. I had all these emotions and values holding me back, but now I’m free of all that. I’m strong now, Sammy, and I want you to be strong with me.”

His words cut deep, and part of me can’t help but believe them – just a little. “Why? You don’t need me,” I ask, shaking my head.

“You’re right,” Dean admits, eyes blinking back to their normal shade. Somehow that’s more disconcerting than the blackness. “I don’t need you. I could kill you at any moment if I wanted to.”

“Then why don’t you?” My heart is thundering in my chest, and I wonder for a moment if he can hear it. 

“Because I want to see you _break_ , baby brother,” my eyes widen. The murderous look falls from Dean’s face, mouth twitching up into a smile. There’s still a dangerous glint in his eye as he lets me go, though, turning back to the wheel. “Now enough chit-chat. Let’s get moving.”

“Where are we going?” I ask tentatively.

Dean doesn’t respond, clearly done talking.

Usually when Dean and I don’t feel like talking on road trips he blares ACDC. But now he just stares ahead intently. 

I shift uncomfortably in the passenger seat and instantly Dean’s eyes are on me, taking me by surprise. He looks back to the road again, starting the car back up, and we drive for half an hour more without any sound but the steady rumble of the engine.

Suddenly the vibrations of my phone fill the car as it lights up from the dashboard where Dean tossed it. My hopes rise minutely, wondering if I’ll be able to grab it and pick up before Dean can stop me. 

Unfortunately Dean is on high alert, and grabs it just as I’m reaching for it. My movements are not lost on him, and with a flick of his wrist my free arm in pinned to the seat by an invisible force. 

I glance at the screen, seeing Cas’ name shine against the dark background. I look to Dean, trying to evaluate his next move.

He looks at me coolly, unconcerned by the interruption. “You’re going to answer this and tell Cas you need your space and not to call again,” he orders pointedly. “Got it?” I give a slight nod, not intending to follow the direction whatsoever. But my brother knows me too well to believe it. “Oh, and if you try to be sneaky – even a little bit – You’ll be choking down so much demon blood you won’t be able to see straight, understand?” 

My heart sinks, and I glower back at him. I evaluate my options: on one hand I know Dean is going to feed me more blood anyway, but the more I’m able to prolong the inevitable the better. And while I could tell Cas to pop over here, it wouldn’t do a whole lot of good so long as Dean is still on the move… 

“Fine,” I give in through clenched teeth. 

Dean wastes no time in answering the call and putting the angel on speaker so he won’t miss a single word. 

“Sam?” Cas asks instantly, voice concerned.

“Yeah, Cas,” I reply slowly. Dean gives me a sharp look and I hastily clear my throat. “What is it?” 

“You’ve been gone for hours,” the angel points out. “I waited because you said you needed time alone but…you’re not still at the bar, are you? You should really come back to the Bunker…I shouldn’t have let you leave in the first place - You haven’t had enough time to recover from the demon blood and I know the things Dean said shook you up –“

I try to ignore Dean’s pleased smirk. “I’m fine, Cas. Really,” I cut my friend off; not wanting him to say anything else while Dean unknowingly eavesdrops.

“Sam I know you’ve been through a lot, but it’s not safe for you out there without someone to look out for you. Dean could be anywhere and we still don’t know what he wants with you.” 

“I’ll be fine,” I lie, trying to think of a way I can tip Cas off without Dean knowing. But I can’t think of anything; he knows all the secret code words. It never occurred to us that we might need to communicate without the other knowing – although knowing our luck we probably should have thought of it. “Hey, look, I uh – I’m going to be away for a while. I need space, okay?”

“What? For how long?” Cas asks, clearly confused.

“Uh – I don’t know. A while, probably,” I answer apprehensively, second-guessing my choice to lie to the angel. 

“At least tell me where you’re going!” Cas insists, voice reverberating around the impala.

I hesitate for a moment, aware of Dean’s eyes staring me down. “I don’t know,” I reply truthfully, and then remembering the direction we’ve been traveling in, I add hurriedly “out of state.”

Dean jerks the steering wheel, making me collide against the car door, the handcuffs digging harshly into my injured wrist as my body weight is forced against it. I grunt in pain, looking up to meet Dean’s warning glare.

“Sam, are you okay? What happened?” Cas’ voice pipes up worriedly.

“Yeah, fine. There was a deer in the road and I almost hit it.”

“You sounded like you were in pain –“

Dean pulls the phone back, indicating it was time to hang up. I plow on hurriedly.

“No, I’m fine, Cas. Look, I gotta go, okay?” Another pointed glare is sent my way, and I hesitate again before continuing. “Don’t call again. I need space.”

Dean hangs up before Cas can protest further. I just hope the angel knows me well enough to be suspicious. 

“Look Sammy, I know you’re hoping he’s caught onto something, but you should really hope he hasn’t – for your own sake,” Dean threatens, putting the phone back on the dashboard. I suddenly realize my arm is no longer pinned down, and I move it closer to my chest instinctively.

We approach a gas station that has seen better days, its lights flickering in a depressing way. There are weeds growing up through the cracks in the pavement, the paint peeling off the main building. 

Dean parks the Impala by one of the tanks, popping the fuel door open.

He looks to me intently before opening up his door. “Don’t try anything stupid, Sammy. You won’t get far.” With that he exits the car and begins tapping the appropriate buttons on the gas pump. 

Once he’s out of the car I keep my eyes on him as I reach my good arm out – ever so slowly – towards my cell phone. If I can just get it and call Cas… 

I jump in surprise, completely forgetting the phone, as the passenger door is jerked open.

Of course, since I’m currently handcuffed to the door handle, I’m pulled violently out of the car and onto the pavement. I cry out as the pressure put on my wrist sends fiery flares of pain shooting up my arm.

My back aches from the impact on the solid ground, and I shift, trying to lesson the pull on my wrist. Looking up, I see an unfamiliar woman standing over me. I had been so focused on sneaking the phone that I didn’t notice her creeping up to the Impala. 

She wrenches me up by my hair with superhuman strength. I try to fight back but my right arm is no good and she instantly twists my left painfully behind my back. The next moment there is cold steel pressed against my exposed neck, and I instantly freeze.

I look over to see Dean has already drawn his gun, training it on the woman’s face behind mine. I can feel her excited breath against my throat, making my skin prickle unpleasantly. 

“Let him go,” Dean growls protectively. If I didn’t know better I’d believe he was the same brother that has put his ass on the line for mine countless times. The brother that practically raised me single-handedly and gave everything he had to make sure I was happy. The thought hurts. 

“I don’t think so,” The woman laughs, pricking my neck with her knife. I pull my head back, trying to avoid the blade. “See, while Crowley may be my _king_ , I think he’s gotten weak. And it’s _your_ fault. You two have softened him up – but God knows I’m not living under the rule of some prissy man who drools at the feet of a couple _humans_.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Are you done, princess? Look, you’re right – Crowley isn’t strong enough to be the king of Hell anymore. But killing Sam won’t help you.”

“Oh, I think it will. And when I kill him you’ll be too crushed to think straight. Then I’ll kill you, too.”

Dean’s head bends back as he lets out a loud laugh, making my skin crawl. The demon tenses against my back, clearly not expecting the reaction, either. Dean stops laughing, looking her dead in the face, eyes flicking black. The lady gasps, stepping back slightly, taking me with her. 

“You really are as dumb as you look,” Dean taunts, all traces of a smile gone from his face. “You seriously think you can kill Sam and get away with it? Honey, I’m a demon – as you clearly hadn’t been informed of – and Sammy is a walking, talking weapon now that he’s chugging demon juice again.”

So is that Dean’s plan for me? To turn me into his own personal killing machine? The thought leaves a sour taste in my throat. There’s got to be more to it than that; something that he wants me to do. Something that he’s trying to get his hands on.

“But you know what,” Dean continues, interrupting my thoughts. “I’ll give you a choice. Either you let Sammy go and I let you live so you can tell all your friends not to cross me, or you keep on with your delusional plan and I gank you right here. You choose.”

“I choose the third option,” the demon sneers. Before Dean has time to shoot back a snide remark, five demons come out of the shadows and jump him. I hadn’t even seen them, as they were too well hidden. In a matter of seconds it turns into an all-out brawl on the opposite side of the Impala, Dean disappearing behind their bodies. 

My demon dropkicks me to the ground without warning, and I groan as my head collides with the gravely cement. She’s on top of me in an instant, pinning my left arm to the ground with her knee while my right arm stretches up uncomfortably to the passenger door.

I fight back, twisting my hips to try to throw her off, attempting to wrench my arm out from beneath her. She promptly lands a punch against my face, my already abused nose trickling blood instantly. 

“You know,” she drawls, pushing some hair out of my face. I pull away from her, wanting nothing to do with demons ever again. “I was just going to kill you and Dean. But now that I know you’re pumped up on demon blood again? Boy, that changes things. You know, your brother was right when he said you’re a weapon – practically just a ticking time bomb. And all you need is to be wound up –“

“Get off me,” I growl, glaring her down. “Or so help me –“

“Shhhh,” she whispers, resting her dagger against my cheek. I bristle beneath her, glancing in Dean’s direction. I can’t see him past the Impala, but I can hear the painful sounds of fists meeting flesh. I just need to get away from this one and run before Dean notices… “I can just see it now: me overtaking Crowley with you as my main soldier. My own personal slave…” 

“Not gonna happen,” I bark, eyes narrowing. I _won’t_ let myself be used – not again. Not ever. Not by this demon, or Crowley, or Dean. No one will ever control me ever again. Not after Gadreel; not after what he made me do to Kevin. 

She raises the knife lovingly before running it across her palm, blood rising to the surface. “I’ll keep you fed and you’ll be cowering at my feet like the scum you are,”

I don’t even think before I do it. Maybe it’s just habit. Maybe I’m not thinking straight. Maybe I’m just so desperate to not be used by this woman that I don’t care how bad my other options are.

Whatever the reason, I shout for my brother. “Dean!”

He growls my name back as the sounds of fighting continue, but the demon has already taken advantage of my open mouth, planting her bleeding hand onto it and holding my head still with a tight grip on my hair.

I renew my struggles, even as the blood trickles down my throat invitingly. I yearn for it’s bittersweet taste, the coppery smell, the familiar power rush that comes with it. The sounds around me dull down as my senses zone in on the liquid invading my mouth. 

Something deep inside my chest aches for more, wanting more, needing _more_. My pupils have dilated, heart beat racing, skin tingling. 

_Stop_ , a small voice in the back of my mind warns as I push forward, lapping up the blood from the girl’s hand, trying to get as much as possible from the cut. _Stop stop stop!_

I’m so conflicted, my head telling me what I know is right but I’m just so _thirsty_ for this. I can’t get my fill of it, sucking and licking like a man in the desert.

“ _Get off him_!” A loud, furious voice bellows. Suddenly the hand has left my mouth, and Dean is there, gripping the demon by the throat. His eyes are black; spit flying from his lips as he bares his teeth at the girl. “ _No one_ feeds my brother demon blood but _me_. _I_ look out for him, got it? _Me_!” 

The demon struggles in his choke hold, gasping and writhing helplessly. She’s still sitting on my lap, unable to get away. She nods hurriedly, struggling for breath.

Dean brandishes the demon knife, letting her see it for a moment before driving it into her chest. I flinch as her scream is choked off quickly, starring into Dean’s cold gaze. I haven’t seen him this angry – pure malice is written across his face, a frightening sneer twisting his features. 

He stabs her again. And again. And then a third time, splattering us both with her blood. Then he throws her to the ground next to me, landing a harsh kick to her ribs. I sit up, scooting away from the mutilated body. Dean is breathing heavily, wiping the blood that drips from his knife against his jeans.

My body moves without my consent. One moment I’m cowering beside the Impala and the next I’m crouched down next to the dead body, scooping the rushing blood off of the pavement and into my watering mouth. All I know is that I _need_ it and there it is, taunting me. Can’t let it go to waste…

Strong hands wrench me back and against a solid body. I struggle for a moment, but Dean is stronger, gripping my left wrist tightly, his other arm wrapped around my chest.

“Stop it!” He barks, shaking me roughly. “Didn’t you hear what I told her? You drink from me _only_!”

Something inside me breaks at his words, and without warning tears are rushing down my cheeks. I feel so pathetic; so _dirty._ I had been clean for so many years, refusing to succumb to the pull of my old addiction.

_Clean_. Had I ever been really, truly clean? Not since Azazel broke into my nursery and ruined my life forever. Not since Ruby. No, I wasn’t clean. Maybe if I had finished the trials, maybe if I had just sacrificed myself like I was supposed to.

Dean is shushing me, wiping the blood from my mouth with his hand carefully. Now that I’ve stopped struggling he resorts to simply holding me as I shake in his arms.

“Shh, Sammy,” he whispers. “It’s gonna be okay. Shh…” I continue to tremble, tears coursing down my face, mixing with the leftover blood smeared across it. Dean’s voice is so comforting – so familiar. I feel myself calming a bit naturally.

His voice rumbles softly, and I can feel it against my back. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s doing. Singing. Focusing intently on his soft voice, trying to push away any other noises of the terrible world around me, I realize what song it is. 

_Hey Jude_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who doesn’t remember, Hey Jude is the song Mary would sing to Dean instead of a nursery rhyme. I want to show different sides of Dean while he’s a demon. Because even though he is corrupted, part of him is still Dean. And Dean looks out for Sam no matter what.
> 
> As you can see, option 2 won!   
> Well, technically it was a tie. I ended up asking my friend which option I should go with and she voted for this one - after I went through the long process of explaining Supernatural to her: 
> 
> “So, Sam is the shorter one –“  
> “No, that’s Dean. So Dean –“  
> “Wait, so just call him Jensen cuz I can’t keep them straight –“  
> “Okay so Jensen and Jared – that’s the guy who plays Sam –“  
> “Okay I’ve got Sam. So just say Sam and Jensen.”
> 
> ….
> 
> Once we both think we’re on the same page
> 
> “So Sam is a demon –“  
> “…No”
> 
> It took a while ;)
> 
> Option 1. The demon blood begins taking its toll on Sam, and he starts having visions again...Except he realizes too late that the people he’s seeing in his head are future victims of Dean’s. 
> 
> Option 2. Sam is able to escape Dean and runs, but it isn’t long until the thirst demon blood catches up to him and he has to choose between relapse or succumbing to the addiction.


	4. Chapter 4

We sit like that for a few moments longer, Dean singing very softly while I try to control my heartbeat. This new behavior takes me by surprise, and I don’t know what to do. Does this mean that Dean – the real Dean – is coming through? Or is this just another trick to his game?

“Dean? Is that you?” I whisper tentatively, longing for my brother to answer me in his usual protective tone. I knew that not all of him had become demonic – that there was a part of him that was still the brother I knew. I wouldn’t let myself believe it, still won’t. He’s in there. 

The singing stops abruptly, and I hold my breath, body tense. There is a second of silence, and then Dean’s hand is roughly gripping my hair, pulling me to my feet. I wince, my stomach twisting and dropping at the same time when I’m face to face with the demon sneering before me.

“You were there, Dean,” I plead, searching his cold eyes. “I know you were! That was _you_ , not some demon version of you. Just listen, _please_ , we’ll figure this out –“

Dean’s eyes flash black for a second, and the next moment my back is colliding with the side of the Impala, his face mere inches from my own. I don’t stifle the grunt of pain in time, letting it escape as my injured wrist is violently jerked in the cuffs.

“You’re lucky I want you relatively intact, baby brother,” he seethes, shifting his grip harshly to my throat, squeezing ever so slightly. “Or I’d cut your tongue off right here and now to get you to shut up.” I feel my eyes widen in shock, my free hand fighting against Dean’s, which is tightening dangerously. “But I guess I’ll just have to compromise…” 

He pulls his fist back, and I brace myself for the impact that I know will plunge me into darkness.

A second before it comes, however, an overwhelming pain stabs into my skull, making my knees buckle from beneath me. Dean is taken by surprise, letting me fall to the cold pavement, my free hand pressing into my forehead. Tiny snippets interrupt my vision – two men in uniform, police badges, gagging on their own blood…

I cry out, the pain escalating. Something is trickling from my nose, and a persistent, familiar voice in my mind tells me it’s my own blood. Tells me I know, I remember, how could I ever forget?

The present moment slips back into focus, Dean’s face looking fixedly into my own. My palms are clammy, sweat soaking my forehead, the taste of iron in my mouth. I shake my head slowly, trying to push away the gruesome images.

A loud laugh cuts through my thoughts, sending a new twinge of pain into my brain. Dean claps a hand against my shoulder supportively. I scrunch up my face, trying to pull away, but unable to due to the handcuffs.

“Well well,” Dean whistles. “ _Welcome back_ , _Sammy_! What did you see?” 

“Nothing,” I lie, trying to get my feet under me. I can’t do anything for those men, not now. Dean would only make it worse. I can’t confirm that I had another vision; if I’m going to ever make it out of this I have to keep as much as possible to myself. _Just like before…Just like when you were crazy…The blood, the headaches, the visions, the relapse. And then all over again. It doesn’t stop. It won’t ever go away._

Dean’s face hardens again. “You’re a horrible liar, baby brother. You saw something, or some _one_ , and I want to know what it was.”

“It was just a headache – I didn’t see anything!” I insist, wincing against the pounding in my skull.

Dean’s hand darts out to grip my right wrist, already painfully tugged upon by the metal. “Tell. Me. What. The. Hell. You. Saw.” He growls, punctuating each word with a harsh twist or squeeze on the swollen appendage. Tears spring to my eyes, and I grit my teeth against the whimpers that catch in my throat. 

“Hands up where I can see them!” A voice bellows from a few feet away. Dean and I both whip our heads to the side, and my blood runs cold.

The same men that I saw, dead and covered in blood, are now standing before us, guns drawn and trained on my brother.

“No,” I protest, catching a labored breath. “Get out of here!”

“Remain calm, sir,” the taller of the two says in a steady voice, eyeing me with evident concern but keeping his gun pointed at my brother. “You’re going to be okay.”

“No!” I shout this time, stumbling to a kneeling position. “Listen to me – you need to run!”

Dean laughs now, putting his hands up like the officers demanded. “Is this what you saw, Sammy? _This_ is what you wouldn’t tell me about?” He looks to the two men, spreading his fingers in feign innocence. “Of course I’ll go with you, officers. Just so long as you promise to look after my brother for me.” 

“You have the right to remain silent!” The other officer, shorter but beefier, demands, gesturing to Dean with his gun. A sick part of me wonders whether it would be horrible if he pulled the trigger. Do what I’m not strong enough to do. If what this demon is telling me is true, there’s nothing left of Dean in there to save. 

“Yes sir! Of course, sir, so sorry, sir!” Dean chuckles mockingly with a shrug of his shoulders. The two men come forward uneasily, one pulling handcuffs from his belt. Dean glances at me, sending a wink my way, and then jumps forward.

I see the glint of the blood on the blade before I look away, scrunching my eyes shut and trying to block out the horrible sounds as Dean slaughters the two men. I try to block out their screams, and the laugh that comes from the thing that used to be my brother.

It’s over within three minutes, but it feels so much longer. The men have stopped gagging on their own blood. There is a moment of silence, and I force myself to open my eyes. 

Dean is looking at me steadily, assessing my next move. I avoid turning to see the carnage, instead returning Dean’s stare. I try to find any signs of remorse in his eyes, but all I see is darkness and hatred.

“Maybe if you had told me the truth I would ‘a let them go,” He says coolly, squatting down in front of me. “But you can’t seem to get it in your head – _I_ call the shots here, Baby Brother, and you do what I tell you to do. Got that?”

I shake my head slightly, “You’re not my brother. You’re not.” My voice shakes, but I can’t help it; not when he’s looking at me like that. 

Dean eyes me evenly, seemingly calculating options in his mind. “You know, Sammy, that hurts my feelings.” 

“Oh yeah?” I huff. “Well I’d say you deserve more than a few _hurt feelings_ after all you’ve done.”

“Well the thing is, the only reason you’re still alive is _because_ you’re my brother, so I wouldn’t throw around insults if I were you,” Dean whispers, eyes narrowing.

“I thought you wanted me around so you could use me as some kind of weapon?” I spit back. 

“Oh, you’re a weapon, all right,” he snickers. My skin crawls at his words. “One that shouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.” 

I try to push aside the disgust that he views me as some kind of object to be owned rather than his family, and focus on the main point. “And who would that be, if not a psychotic demon on a killing spree?” 

“Why, Crowley, of course,” he scoffs, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. 

“ _Crowley_?” I ask dumbly. “What do you want with Crowley? Payback?” 

“Revenge does sound nice, yes, but I was thinking of something more along the lines of a throne in the main chambers of Hell.”

My blood runs cold, eyes widening in shock. “You want to become the king of Hell?” I ask incredulously.

“Yahtzee!” Dean grins, patting me on the shoulder.

“And why would I ever help my brother become the king of Hell? How could I even help?”

“Aw, I’m touched, Sammy; I thought you said I wasn’t your brother anymore?” Dean taunts, ruffling my hair with irritating causality. “You’re gonna help me because if you don’t, you won’t get your demon fix. And we both know what happens to you during relapse, don’t we? As for the _how_ – it’s simple. I’m pretty damn strong on my own, but with your mojo going you can drop a group of baddies without even touching them.”

“You know it’s not that easy –“ I interject, sick to my stomach at the very thought of both relapse and exorcisms.

“- Oh, but it will be when we’re done,” Dean cuts me off, voice ominous. “You’re gonna help me with whatever jobs I have for you, or I’ll make your life a living hell. Since we both know what Hell feels like, I don’t think you’d be too keen on experiencing it again. After all, I did help slice and dice down there; I know the tricks. And I know exactly how to push your buttons.”

The most terrifying thing is that I know what he’s saying is true. No one knows me better than Dean, whether he’s a demon or not.

“You’re not stronger than Crowley,” I say cautiously, trying a different tactic. “There’s no way you could kill him.”

“You know, Sammy, at one point I would have agreed with you on that. But you and I have made it through a lot of crap together over the years. Saving people, hunting things – the family business!”

“This isn’t the family business!” I spit back. “You’re insane! We’re supposed to stop monsters like Cain, not become them!”

Dean grips my throat, forcing me back against the Impala. I grab his wrist, trying to pull him off of me. He blocks my windpipe with an easy flick of his finger, and uses my moment of panic to pull me to my feet along with him.

“You really should have thought about that before you started chugging demon juice, baby brother. Or you could have just offed yourself years ago. The world would be a hell of a lot safer if you had let it put you out of your misery; God knows it’s tried.” 

“You never let me give up,” I choke out, reaching for any ounce of breath I can get even as my visions blacks around the edges. “You always pulled me back.” 

“Yeah, well,” Dean whispers. “Looks like there’s a purpose for you, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Options for the next chapter:
> 
> 1\. Dean forces Sam into submission with blood feedings and withdrawals until he becomes dependent. 
> 
> 2\. Sam gets a hold of the First Blade and runs, trying to escape Dean who is on his tail.


	5. Chapter 5

I wake up to a sharp pain against my face, whipping it to the side. Shaking my head to gather my bearings, I look forward to find Dean’s sneering face leering at me, his hand still up from the slap.

“Hello to you, too,” I snap, glaring at him with false confidence.

I’m rewarded with a powerful punch to the stomach, leaving me gasping for breath. I try to lean over to shield myself from another blow, but realize my hands are chained above my head. The chill of the room hits me, and a quick once-over confirms that Dean took my jacket. My feet shuffle on the concrete floor as I glance around to see that we seem to be in an old, abandoned barn. I look up, following the chain up to a low hanging rafter. Dean must have driven us back here after I passed out from air-loss at the gas station.

“You’re in no position to be a smart-ass, Sammy,” Dean growls, gripping my hair to make me look at him. “In fact I’d say you’re not in a good position for anything but begging, at the moment, so I’d be careful if I were you.”

“Screw you,” I spit in Dean’s face. “There’s no way in hell that I’m begging to you!”

I saw the punch coming, but didn’t fully prepare myself for the strength behind it. My head snaps to the side with a grunt and my jaw reverberates in pain. Dean hit me so hard that I momentarily lose my footing, putting extra weight on broken wrist and forcing a cry from my dry lips.

“Oh, well in that case,” Dean taunts, pulling the First Blade from his belt and creating a deep cut on his palm. “I guess you’re not interested in this?”

“N-no,” I reply with as much conviction as possible. My mouth has already begun to water, but I clamp it shut and turn my face away.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean whispers, using the flat side of the blade to turn my face back to him. It smears blood across my cheek, the smell of iron and sulfur overwhelming my senses.

I close my eyes in protest, trying to block out the hunger growing in my stomach and the thundering of my heart in my chest.

My eyes fly open again when Dean presses his palm against my mouth, and before I can process anything, he has already squeezed several precious drops past my lips.

I try to pull away, but the taste is so sweet that I instinctively lick my lips, accidentally drawing more in from the cut.

The blood is intoxicating, as always. I’ve never been able to fully describe the taste of it, because it’s sweet, yet bitter, and smooth yet acidic. It burns on its way down my throat, seeming to fill some deep, hidden pit inside me that can only be fed by this particular poison.

Dean pulls his hand back, and I actually make a small whining sound before I realize it. He smirks at the noise, looking to his palm as the cut seals itself.

Sweat drips from my forehead and my stomach is churning. I look down, not wanting to meet the black eyes of the demon before me – or worse, the deep, familiar eyes of my brother.

“If only Dad could see you now,” Dean chuckles. I look up at the sound of scrapping, watching through exhausted eyes as he drags a wooden chair a couple feet in front of me. He casually flips it around so he can sit in backwards, resting his arms against the backrest. “Look at you: you’re a mess. You’re pathetic. You’ve killed so many and yet you still think you’re some kind of hero. Well guess what, kiddo – hero’s don’t exist in the real world.”

“You know you can say and do whatever you want to me but that won’t change the fact that I won’t help you.”

“Oh really?” Dean asks, rising slowly from his chair to stand in front of me once again.

“Yeah, really,” I look him right in the eye, refusing to back down.

“Well then –“ I cut him off with a sharp cry as my head explodes in pain. My vision cuts off, and I clench my eyes shut, willing the impeding vision away.

A little girl, no more than seven years old, clutched in the arms of a man and a woman, all of them are crying…Then suddenly the girl is covered in blood, per parents are screaming…Blood spreading across the barn floor…

I come back to reality with a gasp for air, as if surfacing from underwater. In the back of my mind I know my nose has begun to bleed, but I pay it no heed, instead looking frantically around the barn, trying to locate the innocent people.

Dean laughs, giving me a knowing smirk. “What did you see, huh, Sammy?” I don’t meet his eyes; still shifting my gaze to try to see someone, hear something… “Are you going to tell me, or are we going to have a repeat of last time? You know I hate it when you lie to me, Sammy…” He emphasizes his point by bringing the knife to my neck threateningly.

“You’ve already said you want me alive,” I point out, finally meeting his steely gaze.

Without warning Dean drags the blade against my unprotected stomach, creating a deep cut. I cry out, trying and failing to pull away because of my bound hands. Blood trickles down from the gash, dripping onto the scattered hay.

“I want an answer, and you’re gonna give it to me this time!” He roars, taking a fistful of my bloodied t-shirt and shaking me. The movement jostles my injuries and I have to choke back another shout of protest. “Which one was it, huh?” Dean sneers, drawing me closer.

My eyes widen in realization. “Where are they, Dean? Let them go! They have nothing to do with this!”

“Who was it, huh, Sammy?” I plaster on my poker face, unwilling to give out the information at any cost. “The mom? The dad? Was it the little girl, maybe?” At that I hear a tiny whimper from behind me. I instantly whip my head around, seeing the family of three huddled in terror in the back corner. Strips of cloth are tied securely against their mouths, and their eyes are as wide as they can get. From the way the mother’s hands against her mouth, I’d guess she is the one who made the sound. The girl is shaking like a leaf behind them, their bodies creating a human shield in an attempt to protect their daughter. The sight makes my skin crawl, unsettling my stomach so much I feel like I could puke.

Dean’s fist pummels into my ribs, knocking the breath from my lungs. He pulls his hand back, his knuckles glistening with the fresh blood from my cut. “Tell me which one it was,” he growls. I shake my head resolutely. I prepared myself for the punch this time, but it still rattles my whole body.

Dean storms over to the family, all three of them flinching in response. The man pushes his wife and daughter further behind him. Dean grabs by the arm and throws him onto the ground in front of me, where he cowers in fear.

“Leave him alone, Dean!” I bellow, pulling against the chains in a futile attempt to get to the victim in front of me.

Dean forces the First Blade under the man’s neck, turning him so they are both looking at me intently – Dean’s eyes are completely black, the father’s wide and red from crying. “Tell me who died in your vision and he lives,” Dean demands, drawing the blade closer to the final strike.

“I’m not signing any of their lives off to you, Dean,” I reply, trying to keep my voice level. “Just let them go – please!”

“I just want a relationship based off of honesty, brother,” Dean says scornfully. “Tell me who you saw in your vision or they all die.”

I stare at him for a long moment, trying to call his bluff. But I can’t read him anymore, not like this. I swallow over the lump that has risen in my throat. I can’t afford to take chances here.

“The girl,” I say softly, trying not to meet the father’s eyes.

“There’s two girls over there!” Dean barks, drawing blood with the knife threateningly. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Sammy!”

“The daughter! The little girl!” I shout back, hating myself as I say it but hoping that Dean will have a moment of mercy. I saw what he did to the policemen at the gas station, and God knows I don’t want a repeat of that.

I can hear the mother make another frightened protest from behind me, and watch in helpless terror as Dean tosses the man to the ground to approach the girl instead. The woman starts screaming, and the man jumps up to rush Dean.

“Stop!” I scream, but Dean just flicks his wrist and sends the dad back down like it was nothing.

He drags the little girl by her hair over towards her father, who tries to reach out for her. He starts yelling when he realizes he can’t move his arms from Dean’s control, and tears build up in my own eyes.

“Dean, please, leave them out of this!” I beg, pulling at the chains and ignoring the painful shocks it sends through my body. “Let them go!”

Dean cuts into his own forearm, giving me a clear view. “You’re going to drink until I tell you to stop,” He states, not letting go of the girl’s hair. “Or the little one here is a goner.”

“Okay,” I concede, eyes wide as I will Dean to back down. “Okay, I will. Just let them go, and I’ll drink however much you want, okay?”

Dean actually smiles at that, and lets the girl drop to the floor. The father, suddenly realizing he’s been freed, rushes over to engulf her in an embrace. “You!” He barks, pointing the knife at the mother. “Get over here!” She wastes no time in obeying orders, scurrying to join her husband and daughter.

Dean looks back to me, holding out his arm. “Open up,” he orders. It takes all of my willpower to force my lips apart to accept the poison.

I don’t know how much time is spent drinking Dean’s blood, or how much I take in. I just know that when he finally stops I’m exhausted, but there’s a buzzing in my veins as the demon blood begins mixing with my own.

_Unclean._

“Now was that so difficult, Sammy?” Dean taunts, watching as the cut on his arm heals over.

He doesn’t waste time before turning to stab the father in the chest. The muffled screams of the mother and little girl are mixed with my own as the man quickly loses his fight and slumps to the ground.

“Stop it!” I roar, fighting with new conviction against my bonds. “Damnit, Dean, please! Please stop! You wanted me to beg, right? Alright, alright, I’m begging – Dean let them go –“

A sadistic smile has spread across Dean’s features, and despite my protests he reaches for the little girl. The mother throws herself in front of her daughter and takes the blow as the knife sinks into her stomach.

Something in me breaks, then, and suddenly I’m on top of Dean, trying to wrestle the knife from his bloody fingers. He quickly gets over the shock and slams his boot against my chest, throwing me off. My head meets the hard floor, and the edges of my vision go black. I grasp blindly for anything solid as my head swims, finally managing to crawl onto my hands and knees.

I look up to see that Dean is already standing before me. I don’t have time to fight back before he forces me up with a strong grip on my arm. He faces me towards where I was bound a moment before.

“You see those?” He asks excitedly, pointing to the chains that are now busted open. “You broke those, Sammy.”

“Let the girl go…” I reply sluggishly, my stomach sinking at the sight of what my powers did.

“Okay, Sammy,” Dean replies unexpectedly. I realize he’s let go of me, and I crumple to the ground, making the mistake of trying to steady myself with my broken wrist.

He approaches the sobbing child, kneeling in front of her. She can’t take her round eyes off of the bloody forms of her parents until Dean forces her chin in his direction. “I’m going to let you go,” he says calmly, looking her directly in the eyes before his flick black. She screeches and tries to draw back, but he keeps a firm grip on her face. “And when you get older and seek revenge or some pointless shit like that you can remember my face. My name is Dean Winchester, and I gutted your parents. That guy over there,” he continues, pointing to me. “Is the reason they’re dead. His name is Sam Winchester. I’m a demon and he might as well be one- not that the police will believe you when you say that, of course. But you can try it, if you want.”

He lets go of her then, coming back to me to drag me to my feet. I try to think of something to say to the girl, but she’s covered in the blood of her parents, cloth still wrapped around her face, tears streaming relentlessly down her face.

“I’m so sorry. I promise I didn’t –“ I start, but Dean cuts me off with a harsh squeeze to my injured wrist.

“Shut up, Sammy,” he commands, shoving me in front of him towards the barn door. “We have a king to overthrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUM BUM BUMMMM
> 
> So I’m sorry that this chapter is so sadistic and unsettling...I was not planning for that to happen, but it seemed like the most effective way for Dean to break Sam without physically hurting him so much that he’d be no use in overthrowing Crowley. But as you can see, option 1 is the winner!
> 
> Don’t worry to my whump fans out there! There is still plenty of pain that poor Sam is going to endure before this story is done. Also if you’ve been giving me suggestions for this story and haven’t seen them happen yet: never fear. Most of you have been on a very similar thought-train with me ;) Evil laughter!
> 
> Speaking of the story being done, I really have to speed up my updates not only to appease you lovely readers, but also because I leave at the end of January to study abroad in Europe for the spring semester and I know I’m not going to be able to write and upload over there. 
> 
> For the next chapter…
> 
> Option 1: Sam and Dean track down Crowley and things get real ugly real fast as they realize just how powerful the king of Hell is, and how much he hates being crossed.
> 
> Option 2: Sam and Dean track down Crowley, but Dean underestimates how strong Sam has become with the demon blood and suddenly the tables turn between the brothers.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean pushes me in front of him as he pulls the Impala keys from his jeans pocket. I try to regain my composure, but that’s nearly impossible considering the circumstances.

I have a broken wrist, a nasty gash on my stomach, and I’m pretty sure my nose has been busted. I can still hear the family’s screams in my mind, and my wrists are bloody from pulling against the chains.

I consider making a run for it now that Dean let me go, but I know I don’t stand a chance. It’s dark, I don’t know where I am, and I’m hurt. He could overpower me in a second, no question. 

Dean opens the passenger door, shoving me towards it with cold eyes. I don’t fight, instead following his silent order and easing myself carefully into the car. He grabs the handcuffs from the dashboard and my right wrist jolts in pain just at the thought.

“Give me your hand,” he orders, looking at me expectantly. After a second’s hesitation I offer him my left hand, and he instantly locks the cold metal around it before securing the other end to the door handle.

I try to get more comfortable as he goes around to the driver’s side. It’s hard with my stomach in so much pain, but I’m able to find a slouched position that provides a little relief.

Dean enters the car and starts it up. As he turns away from the barn and onto a dirt road we hit a nasty bump, jostling all of my injuries at once. I grunt instinctively, folding into myself more.

“Pathetic,” Dean scoffs quietly, rolling his eyes as he casts a disgusted glance my way.

“What did you expect?” I spit back, anger rising. “You beat me up and you just expect me to be fine?”

“No, I just thought you were more of man. Thought your pansy days were over.”

“Yeah, well, just because you’re a demon with super-healing doesn’t mean we all can do that. How do you even expect me to fight like this?”

“You don’t need to throw a punch, Sammy. You just need to use your mojo while I do all the brunt work,” Dean looks to me again, expecting my objection.

“You seriously think I’ll be able to take on _Crowley_?” I ask incredulously. “How stupid are you?” 

Dean slams on the brakes, jolting me forward with a shout at the renewed pain. The impala stops on the road, but there’s nothing around us but wide, open fields. Dean thrusts his door open and disappears behind the car. I hear him open the trunk, and immediately start searching for the keys to the handcuffs. I curse under my breath, wishing I had chosen to suck it up and deal with the pain of the metal digging into my broken wrist. If I had my left hand free I might be able to reach the steering wheel and gas pedal and try to make a run for it, but there’s no way I can manage that now. 

My door is forced open and Dean throws me to the ground. I land on the dirt with a hiss, arm twisted up behind me by the handcuffs. I look up at Dean, expecting to see a new, horrible weapon in his hand. 

Instead I see clean ACE bandage rolls, which take me by surprise. Dean kneels down next to me before snatching my right hand. I bite back a protest, instead watching with big, calculating eyes as he proceeds to expertly wrap my wrist.

He grabs my shirt next, forcing it up and off of the gash in my stomach. He begins winding the bandage around it tightly, continuing to wrap it even as blood seeps through. My breathing increases as pain reverberates from the wound, and he lays his bloody palm against my arm.

“Shh, Sammy,” Dean says quietly before finishing up the process.

I try to look deep into his eyes to see if anything changed. They aren’t black at the moment. They seem to belong to my big brother, but given everything that has happened lately I can’t rely on that.

“Dean?” I ask tentatively, afraid of the response. 

“I swear if you start on your ‘this isn’t you’ crap one more time -” He growls, wiping the blood from his hands onto his already ruined jeans.

“-Dean, listen to me. You’ve got to know that this mission of yours to overthrow Crowley is only going to get us both killed,” I say imploringly, trying to speak to whatever is left of my brother. 

“Listen to _me_ ,” Dean seethes, grabbing my jaw roughly. “Here’s how this is going to work: we’re going to find a crossroads. When we get there you’re going to summon Crowley –“ 

“Why me?” I demand, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Because believe it or not, the King of Hell and I aren’t on great terms at the moment. When he comes you’re going to distract him so I can jump him from behind –“

“Distract him?” I scoff, shaking Dean’s hand off of my face. “How am I supposed to do _that_?” 

Dean delivers a harsh slap to my cheek, whipping my head to the side. “Listen here you little shit,” he threatens, taking a fistful of my hair and turning me back to him. “You’re going to distract him – tell him that I got to you but you ran off and you need his help. I’m going to sneak up from behind him. I’ll do all the actual fighting and you’ll be on the side using your freak powers to slow him down.” 

“Can I talk now?” I ask after a moment of silence, raising my eyebrows. Dean glares, but nods slowly. “You seriously think I’ll help you kill Crowley? After the shit you just put me through, and what you did to those cops and that family back there? What you are now…what you’re doing is _evil_ , Dean. There’s no way in hell that I’ll help you do this!” 

Dean looks at me for a long moment, my heart beating rapidly in anticipation of his next move. 

“Do you think Crowley is evil, Sam?” He asks after a minute of silence. 

“What?” I reply stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Answer the question,” Dean snaps, pulling harshly on my hair again. 

“Yes, of course he is,” I answer slowly.

“And haven’t you wanted him dead before?”

“Yes, you know I have-“

“-So why are you so set on keeping him alive now? After all the bad he’s done?”

“I don’t give a damn about Crowley,” I insist. “Not after what he did to you. But I don’t trust you to rule over Hell, either. I would never let my _brother_ go down that road. You’re already a Knight of Hell, isn’t that enough?” 

“Sure it’s a good title,” Dean agrees. “But there’s no way I’m going to grovel for anyone, let alone Crowley. And I think it’s time to shift management and fix the mess he’s made down there. Does that really seem so horrible to you? Here I am, just trying to make things better, and you want to get in the way of that? What does that say about _you_ , huh?”

“Yeah, but how much damage are you gonna do before you make it better?” I ask stonily.

“Every great movement has causalities, Sammy,” Dean says, waving off the issue. “We’ve been seeing that for years now.”

“I can’t take on Crowley anyway,” I falter, suddenly unsure. “Even with your…blood I won’t be strong enough. He’s way too powerful.”

“Yeah, well, good thing I’ve already thought of that,” Dean says, letting go of my hair at last. He goes to the side door of the impala, opening it and pulling out the cooler we use for our drinks. He carries it back to me, setting it down and opening the lid. Instantly the overwhelming smell of blood hits me, and my insides churn. My mouth is suddenly parched, my fingers twitching and nostrils flaring. I close my eyes and look away, trying to quell the thirst but knowing it’s useless. 

“I summoned and drained a demon while you were passed out earlier. I wanted you to only drink from me, but desperate times call for desperate measures.” I peak over at the cooler and watch fixedly as he pulls out two gallons full of the blood.

“No,” I say, my voice shaking. I turn away again, wanting to run and push away the need that is making my chest ache.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean snaps impatiently, opening the lid of the first gallon. “Just this one time, then I promise you won’t have to drink from anyone but me again. I know my blood is special, with the mark and all. This stuff won’t be the same, but it’ll do the trick.”

A small sob rises in my throat, and as pathetic as it may be, I let it loose. I don’t want to become the monster I once was. Not again. I hit rock bottom and I don’t know if I can climb back up a second time. I’m hurt and exhausted and furious. And I’m so, so thirsty. The need inside me makes me feel sick, but I know I won’t be able to deny it for long.

Dean takes my face in his hand again, squeezing until my lips are forced open. I keep my eyes clenched shut, but the smell of the blood is overwhelming all of my senses anyway. I feel the first few drops slide into my mouth, and the moment it touches my tongue I know I’m done. 

I drink both gallons, tears making tracks down my dirtied face. Dean doesn’t say anything the whole time, silently helping me chug all of the disgusting contents. 

When I finally finish drinking Dean pulls the empty jugs away. I open my eyes blearily, watching as Dean throws the empty containers back into the cooler, which he returns to the backseat. My hands are shaking but I manage to wipe my filthy face off with my right forearm.

I should be tired since I’ve barely slept, but the blood is humming in my veins, filling me with adrenaline. It’s a feeling of ecstasy that I haven’t experienced in years and can’t be copied by booze or sex. 

Dean crosses in front of the Impala, opening the driver’s door and taking his seat. “Get in the car, Sammy,” he orders. I get to my shaky feet, clambering into the passenger seat. Dean starts the engine, and we’re off again, in search of a crossroads.

My heartbeat refuses to calm, pounding loudly in my chest and echoing in my ears. Every single detail around me is so vivid and precise. The stars seem like bright, intrusive lights in the dark sky. I can hear he dirt and gravel beneath the tires crystal clear, the smell of gas, which should be miniscule, now seems overpowering.

But the pain that was coursing through my body like a shock has now subsided to a dull ache. I swear I can feel my blood – and the much darker, more sinister demon infection – swimming inside me.

The Impala pulls to a stop. “We’re here,” Dean says, interrupting my thoughts. “Are you going to cooperate and follow through with the plan?” I stare at him a long moment, unsure of my answer. He sighs, shifting the gear into park. “Let me put it this way: you help me, and we fix Hell together. You’ll never have to go through detox ever again, I’ll make sure of it.” I shudder at the thought of going through withdrawal twice in one month. “You fight me, and I make sure you die slow and painful.” My eyes flick to Dean’s, seeing that he is dead serious. While he has threatened me countless times now as a demon, he always seemed to want me alive. “So what will it be, Sammy?” 

I sit up straighter, gathering my willpower. “Death doesn’t scare me anymore,” I lie, meeting his cold gaze. 

“Oh yeah?” Dean sneers, eyes narrowing. “How about purgatory? Or the cage?” I flinch before I can stop myself. Dean smirks knowingly. “You can’t fool me, baby brother. I _know_ you. You may always be trying to sacrifice yourself for the ‘greater good’ but the thought of playtime with Lucifer scares the shit out of you. So I’ll ask again: what are you going to do?” 

I try to quell the rising fear inside of me. “Okay,” I reply shakily. Dean opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. “On one condition!”

“What?” He asks impatiently.

“You have to promise that if we win this fight, you won’t hurt any of our friends.”

“I don’t have friends, Sammy,” Dean scoffs.

“Okay, well, _my_ friends, then. Cas, Charlie…you don’t so much as touch them.” 

Dean stares at me for a long moment, before nodding slowly. “Alright, I promise.” He reaches into the backseat and pulls out a box for demon summoning. He sets it on the seat between us before leaning over me to unlock the handcuffs, finally letting me loose. “Now get out and bring Crowley here. And don’t even think about running, because I’ll be watching you. Got it?”

“Got it,” I reply quietly, getting out of the car. Dean turns the engine off, taking the keys and sliding them into his back pocket. 

I walk to the middle of the crossroad, watching Dean out of my peripheral vision. He hasn’t moved yet, apparently waiting to see that I’ve started the process first. I growl in frustration before kneeling down in the dirt.

I open the box, setting up the candles and tracing the proper sigil into the dirt with my finger. I take a bowl from the box, mixing the proper ingredients together. I take the last thing from the box, the knife reflecting the light from the moon. Taking a deep breath, I cut a small slit into the palm of my right hand, figuring I should leave my left uninjured. 

I look up to see Dean has disappeared silently without my noticing. It hurts too much to make a fist, so I have to push against the cut with my good hand to drop the blood into the bowl. 

“ _Et ad congregandum…eos coram me_ ,” I whisper, unsure if I want the incantation to work or not. There is a moment of silence, and I begin to wonder if I did something wrong or if Crowley is just being difficult. I slowly slip the small knife into my pocket.

“Samantha!” Crowley’s voice welcomes me. I stand, turning to look behind me to see the demon. “If it isn’t my favorite moose. What do you want? I’m a busy man.”

My heartbeat quickens again, and I wonder where Dean is hiding and how long I need to cover for. “I need your help,” I start uncertainly. 

“Well obviously,” Crowley cuts in, looking me up and down. “You look horrible.”

“It’s Dean. I started to cure him but –“

Crowley’s face twists into a look of distaste. “Squirrel got the best of you, eh? Well I don’t see what you want _me_ to do about it. Dean is _your_ problem now. He made it very clear that he wants nothing to do with me.”

It’s then that I see Dean begin to creep from behind Crowley, moving slowly and stealthily in the shadows. The First Blade is held tightly in his hand, and I try my best not to look in his direction.

“Please, I was so close to curing him,” I continue, wondering if I can get Crowley on my side to save Dean. I take a few steps closer to Crowley, “he’s after me, Crowley. I need your help.” I look him straight in the eye, hoping he’ll catch on.

Crowley tilts his head, eyebrows rising. “So what you mean to say…” He says slowly, leaning in. “Is that you and I aren’t safe so long as Dean is running free…” I glance around me, partially selling the part for Dean but also wary of his entrance. “So why would you call _me_ here?” Crowley asks, raising his voice conversationally. “Where has your feathery friend gotten to?”

“Cas is…” I trail off, unsure whether I want Crowley to know how badly Cas has been. I decide against it. “He’s busy. Besides, you’re the one who got Dean into this mess, so you _will_ help me get him out of it.” I do mean that last part; I may not really want him dead, but he has a whole lot of redeeming to do before I ever trust him again. 

“So you want me to help you save your dear big brother, is that it?” Crowley scoffs. I nod stiffly, hair rising on the back of my neck as I catch sight of Dean creeping behind Crowley. “Well, Moose, that’s an intriguing request…but unfortunately for you, I’m not in the business of turning demons back to humans. I’m also most definitely _not_ interested in getting mixed up in more Winchester messes –“

“- But-“ I protest, a lump of fear growing in my chest.

Crowley pushes past me disinterestedly. I stand still, wide eyes finding Dean’s shadowed form amongst the trees. “And,” the King continues from the background. “I don’t fancy falling into a trap, either.”

I begin to turn towards him, but am taken by surprise when an invisible force throws me down. I land painfully on my knees, my legs tingling unpleasantly. I start to move up and away from the demon, but he rams the barrel of a gun against my head, stilling my movements. “Stay,” he spits, as if commanding a dog. “Come out, Squirrel!” He shouts into the night, pressing the gun harder against my skull. “Unless you want to see your brother get a bullet to the brain!”

“You know I don’t give a damn about anyone, right?” Dean yells back from the woods. My heart sinks.

“I think we both know that isn’t completely true, now don’t we?” Crowley taunts back. “Or else Samantha here would already be dead.”

To my surprise, Dean slowly comes out of the shadows. I can’t see the First Blade, but I have no doubt he still has it. “Leave him, Crowley,” he sneers. “This is our fight.”

“Very cliché,” Crowley responds boredly. Without warning he lands a nasty kick to my chest, knocking me down in the dirt. The air rushes from my lungs, and I curl into myself instinctively, anticipating another blow. “But I accept.”

I blearily look up in time to see Dean slam onto the ground from Crowley’s silent attack. The King approaches Dean while he’s down, kicking him in the ribs twice before Dean manages to pull him down. The two land random punches, fighting for the upper hand, cries of both pain and rage filling the empty space. 

I scramble to my feet, pulling the knife from my pocket. I don’t know what I plan to do, instead just watching the fight with wide eyes. “Please, Cas,” I whisper, desperation kicking in full gear. Now that Dean can’t hear me, I can actually try to call the angel. “If you can hear me, please come. We need you big time.” 

Suddenly Dean is sent flying off of Crowley, who rises triumphantly. Dean’s movements are slow as he rolls over to his side. Crowley reaches out, clenching his fist with a smug smile on his face. Dean instantly begins choking, writhing on the ground. I watch as my brother convulses, black smoke beginning to flow from his mouth.

“No!” I shout, taking a step forward. Crowley stands his ground, not even sparing me a glance. “Stop it! You’ll kill him!” 

“No one, not even a bloody Winchester can beat me!” the King yells angrily, tightening his invisible grip around Dean’s throat. 

I don’t hesitate before I do it, swiping the air with my hand and sending Crowley sprawling. Dean is released, hacking and coughing from his spot on the ground.

Crowley twists his hand, and I’m dragged forward, falling face first onto the rough road. The demon gets to his feet, wiping dust off of his suit. “Well, well, well,” he chuckles; making the same choking motion he did to Dean. Air rushes from my lungs as my head is forced upwards so I can meet Crowley’s eyes. “Samuel Winchester, back on the demon blood train. Is this what Squirrel kept you for? I had guessed it was simply a change of company preference, but I see now it’s more than that. You’re supposed to be his little soldier, is that it?”

Dean rises at last, First Blade drawn. Crowley laughs, summoning his gun back to his hand from where he dropped it. I try to protest, but I can barely breathe as it is. A shot rings out, and Dean is screaming, holding his leg, which has ominous light flickering from the bullet wound.

“Oh don’t worry,” Crowley reassures me. “It won’t kill him – just keeps him still while I deal with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, folks! As you can see, option 1 prevailed!
> 
> All of your support means so much to me, so if you want to keep that coming I won’t say no ;)
> 
> Next chapter (it will either be the last or second to last):
> 
> Option 1: Cas arrives and brings Sam and Dean back to the bunker, where Dean is cured and Sam is forced to go through withdrawals again. Dean has to watch as Sam recovers from everything he put him through, guilty and unsure how to make it up to his little brother.
> 
> Option 2: Crowley leaves Dean, taking Sam with him back to Hell just as Cas shows up. Dean is cured, but Sam is now once again being used for his blood-induced powers.


	7. Chapter 7

Finally Crowley releases his invisible grip, and air rushes back to my lungs. I heave on the ground, trying to retrieve regular breaths. I hear the rustle of his suit, and glance up to see him crouching before me. 

“I must admit, Dean’s plan of making you his lapdog isn’t a bad one,” My blood runs cold, and I scramble away from the demon, trying to distance myself as much as possible. Suddenly my motion stops, my body held entirely immobile on the cold earth. “I have seen some of your work when you have been…inspired and it was exemplary.”

“I won’t help you,” I spit back, trying in vain to move any muscle other than my face.

“You won’t have much of a choice in the matter,” Crowley replies, advancing slowly. “Because in case you need a reminder: I am the _King_ of _Hell_.”

There is a _whooshing_ sound, and I shift my gaze to see Castiel wavering on his feet. Hannah is behind him, a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Wonderful of you to join us!” Crowley welcomes, extending his arms. “But Moose and I were just about to leave. You know how pets are, always anxious for their next meal.”

I blanche at that, eyes widening as I try harder to get away. “Crowley, please just let us go!”

Crowley turns to Dean, a smug grin stretched across his face. “Check mate. Your move.” 

He snaps his fingers, and the world around me shifts. The temperature suddenly drops, and I collapse against a hard cobblestone floor. I am free to move again, and I waste no time jumping to my feet and taking in my surroundings.

We seem to be underground, everything around me is made of stone. There is a large door that is guarded on either side. Pillars rise to meet the high ceiling, and I can barely make out huddled figures in the corner of the room.

“Welcome to Hell, Samuel Winchester,” Crowley says smugly from behind me. I whirl around to see him lounging regally on a stone throne. There is a very timid looking demon standing nearby, obviously at a loss for what to do. I doubt any of them could have expected this situation. 

“Look, Crowley,” I start, glancing around me uneasily. The whole place makes my skin crawl, memories of the cage creeping into my mind. I try to fight them, but the echoes of my own screams keep reverberating around my skull. “I never wanted to start a fight with you –“ 

“But you want me dead, don’t you?” He asks, cutting me off.

“What?” I ask shakily, unsure of what to say.

“After all, I am the reason Dean got the Mark of Cain in the first place. I knew he would become a demon if he died, but I decided to keep that information to myself. Be honest, Moose. You hate my guts. You want me dead but you’ve been too busy crying over your brother to take action. Isn’t that right?”

“We don’t need to go into that right now,” I growl, trying to tamper down my anger. Of course Crowley is right: I hate him and I hate what he did to Dean. I’d love to kill him, but that isn’t what matters the most right now. “Dean needs my help –“ 

“He has the angel; that should be enough, shouldn’t it?”

I try to keep my voice level, clenching my jaw so I don’t blow any chance I have at helping Dean. “Cas isn’t himself right now –“

“Yes, well, there seems to be a lot of that going around,” Crowley dismisses. “Dean is a demon, the angel is handicapped, and _you_ are a ticking time bomb.” 

“I’m _fine_ ,” I lie, trying to deflect the obvious truth. “You can’t use me.” 

“Oh really?” Crowley grins, rising from his throne. I stand my ground, glowering at him, trying to mask my fear. He snaps his fingers and the frightened demon rushes forward, his eyes still wide even as he tries to look indifferent. Crowley shoves the man so he stands in front of me. Another snap of the King’s fingers and the man is rolling on the ground covered in his own blood.

I shout in surprise, jumping back. Even so, I cannot tear my eyes away from the red glistening on the stone. My heartbeats thuds in my ears, the hairs on my arms and neck standing on end. My breath catches, the smell of blood wafting up to me.

“Stop it,” I snap at Crowley, unable to look away from the gory sight before me.

“Is that what you really want, Sam?” He asks, peering at me. “Because you don’t look convinced.” 

“I’m sure,” I reply, setting my jaw and looking up to meet Crowley’s gaze. “I don’t want it.”

“Well I must admit I’m impressed by your conviction, although it won’t do you much good.” The King points to the floor, and I’m forced to my knees in front of the pool of blood.

“S-stop it,” I say shakily, closing my eyes, wishing away the thirst that is tightening in my chest and making my mouth dry.

“Make me!” Crowley barks back, smacking me across the face. I flinch, eyes opening out of instinct.

The sight of the blood is before me still, and before I’m able to stop myself I’m scooping up the red liquid, trying to take in as much as possible. The hunger inside me finally relaxes in contentment, although the blood is not as good as Dean’s was. He was right when he said the Mark made his blood special, even though I hate to admit it.

I can only hope that Cas was able to heal Dean, making him my brother again. If he did then help is on the way. No matter how dangerous it may be I know the real Dean will try to protect me from any danger.

I remember how things were between us when I was working with Ruby; how devastated and disgusted Dean was when he found out I had been lying to him. I had a cause then – or thought that I did. Now I’m just a filthy addict, jumping at any opportunity to dig myself deeper.

With great effort I pull myself away from the dead body, scrambling across the floor to distance myself. I can hear Crowley laughing in the background, the sound too similar to Lucifer’s laughs from the cage. 

The very thought combined with the blood in my throat causes me to throw up anything I can. Blood flies from my mouth mixed with saliva and distantly I think I may be crying. All I can think about is that I want this poison out of my system and I don’t want to go back to the way things were or lose Dean or hurt anyone else.

I try so hard to _help_ people. I even think I could be a hero sometimes, but in these moments I know I’m just a pathetic, messed up man who doesn’t learn his lessons from his mistakes. I’m always messing something up, hurting more people than I help. 

As hard as I try I can’t escape my past. I’ve been marked from the moment Azazel chose me as one of his ‘special’ children. I was the reason my mother died before I could even stand on my feet. I thought I had become clean from this addiction, but now I know that I’ll never fully escape it.

“How did it feel, Sammy? Hmm?” Crowley taunts quietly, staring down at me.

“Screw you,” I spit more blood onto the cold concrete, my body shaking from hacking so much.

“Is that any way to address your king and master?” Crowley growls.

I summon all the energy I can muster, wiping the blood from my mouth as I straighten back to my full height, towering over the short man before me. “Screw. You.” 

The demon’s eyes narrow into slits, and suddenly I’m thrown across the room. I slam into the large doors of the throne room before I crumple to the ground. My vision blacks around the edges and my head is spinning and pounding as I try to regain my focus.

“You’ll learn your position here soon enough,” Crowley hisses, glaring down at me. “I’m done playing nice with you Winchesters. You always expect me to help you, but you seem to forget one simple thing…I am the bloody _King_ of _Hell_!” 

Crowley flicks his wrist again, and everything goes black.

* * *

 

I blink slowly, my head pounding and my throat painfully dry. I’m lying in a heap on a cold, uncomfortable surface, and shift slowly to try to regain my bearings.

The rattling of chains stops me. My eyes burst open, Lucifer’s maniacal laughter ringing in my ears, phantom pains spreading across my body. I jolt upwards, but fall right back down as something tugs harshly on my neck.

Forcing myself to calm down, I realize I’m still in the main chamber, crouched beside Crowley’s throne. Wait, no. I’m _chained to_ the throne by a metal collar around my neck. My hands are also bound together, a chain linking them to a ring in the floor. I look back to the throne and jump back in surprise when I see Crowley watching me in amusement.

“Thank goodness you’re finally awake,” He says boredly. “It’s been so dull with you passed out like that.”

“What is this?” I question darkly, pulling at the chains.

“Customary procedure; an owner chaining up their dog so they don’t get away. But don’t worry,” Crowley chuckles, giving me a look of fake pity. “You’ll always be a moose to me, Moose.”

I’m about to reply with an angry retort, but the doors burst open, another demon stumbling through. She is covered in blood and has a bad limp, her blonde hair an absolute mess.

Crowley quickly loses interest in me, straightening in his throne. “Cara…What happened?” He asks dangerously.

“He killed Willow, Darren, and Diane –“ the woman begins cautiously.

Crowley rises, taking a threatening step forward, making the demon flinch. “But is. He. Dead?”

“N-no, your majesty…” Cara says softly, directing her eyes to the floor.

“I send four bloody demons and none of you managed to take on a immobile good for nothing Winchester?” Crowley bellows, rage reaching a new scale. My breath quickens as I take in the woman’s condition with new interest. Dean is a good hunter, but it’s hard to believe that he would be able to beat four demons single-handedly.

“He wasn’t immobile when we got there, y-your majesty,” Cara manages, cringing away from the seething king.

“I shot him in the leg with a demon bullet,” Crowley replies slowly. “What do you mean he wasn’t immobile? It should have kept him down for at least two hours.”

“No, sir, he was strong and fast. I saw blood on his leg but there was no wound –“

“- Did the angel heal it?” Crowley demands, clearly losing his patience.

“There was no angel when we got there, your majesty.” 

“Damnit,” I growl softly, the two sparing me a glance before returning to their conversation.

If Cas was gone and Dean magically healed and then took on four demons, that can only mean he still isn’t cured. I don’t know what happened to Cas, but I just hope he is at least okay.

“Dean did have a message, sir, for you and for Sam,” Cara says tentatively. I focus back on the conversation, intent on hearing the next words.

“Go on,” Crowley urges impatiently. 

“He said to tell Sam that he still belongs to him,” the demon supplies nervously, looking to me. My blood runs cold at the possessive nature of the words, knowing that he means them. “And he said to tell you,” Cara continues, turning back to Crowley. “He said ‘your move.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter:
> 
> Option 1: Crowley digs up Sam’s past by finding Ruby deep in Hell and bringing her back to use as a ‘bloodbank’ for Sam’s addiction.
> 
> Option 2: Crowley sets Sam out as bait, waiting for Dean to show up so he can attack.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reviewer on Fanfiction.net requested a chapter of Dean's perspective of the fight, so here you go!

**_Dean_ **

Sam and Crowley are gone just like that.

That shit-faced demon left me here, lying on the ground with a freaking bullet in my leg and a damaged angel and his girlfriend eyeing me warily.

My leg hurts like hell – icy fire that bites through my whole body, rippling through my veins and making me jolt every so often. I look around me, looking for anything to help me get the bullet out, but I see nothing.

“Dean,” Cas’ weak voice utters, the two angels hurrying over to me.

“Get lost,” I snap, fully fed up with everyone at the moment. The plan was simple: Sam was supposed to keep Crowley still so I could jump him, and I would take Hell for myself. But Sam must have given me away – of course he did, that little shit always found his way around everything. I should have known better than to think he was ready to help me do anything. 

“Dean, I’m going to cure you and then we’re going to save Sam –“ Cas says resolutely, looking down to me with a mixture of rage and concern.

“- Tell you what,” I interrupt, not interested in hearing anymore ‘I’m going to save you’ crap. “You are going to heal my leg and then you and your lady friend here are going to fly away and stay out of my business.”

“And why would we do that?” Hannah demands, drawing her angel blade and pointing it at my face, inches from my nose. “After everything you’ve done you just expect us to let you go?”

“Listen honey,” I say boredly, giving her a sweet, insincere smile. “You can’t take me, so I suggest you two get out of here while you still can.”

“Dean you’re injured,” Cas points out, obviously uncomfortable with me talking to Hannah. “You can’t fight back so you might as well just come with us.”

“Who said I can’t fight back?” I question, a grin tugging at the edges of my lips. Hannah yelps in surprise as I wrench the blade from her grip, forcing her down against me, the weapon now held steadily against her throat. “Now heal my leg or the girl dies. Slowly.” 

“Dean!” Cas shouts, beginning to advance, only to stop suddenly when I draw some of Hannah’s blood. “Dean,” he continues, holding up his hands pleadingly. “Let her go.” 

“Heal my damn leg and you two can fly away and do your dirty little angel deeds. I won’t go after you, promise. I just want my brother back and Crowley dead. You two are safe so long as you don’t cross me.”

“No,” Cas stutters, face reddening. “Hannah and I – we don’t –“

I roll my eyes, pressing the knife harder against the angel’s neck. “Do I look like I give a shit?” I snap impatiently. “Just get the damn bullet out of my leg!”

“Listen, Dean –“

“ _Now_!”

Cas comes forward slowly, placing his hand hesitantly over the bullet wound. “No, don’t!” Hannah protests, twisting in my grip.

“Shut up!” I seethe, wrenching her head back with a harsh tug of her brown hair. She gasps in pain, and Cas moves his hand away.

“Dean –“ 

“Do it!” I order furiously. “Or I swear I will slit her throat without a second thought!”

Cas takes one glance at Hannah’s scrunched up face and goes back to my leg, focusing intently on the wound hidden beneath his hand. The angel quakes with the effort, but light begins to shine from his palm. Relief floods through my body, and I shove Hannah away and into Cas, knocking them both to the ground in a tangled heap. I keep the angel blade, pointing it towards them lazily as I jump to my feet.

“Thanks for that,” I sneer, stretching my muscles. “Now run before I decide to kill you after all.”

“We’re not leaving without you,” Hannah spits back, getting to her feet. Cas pathetically attempts to rise, but falls back down each time.

I laugh, reveling in her stupidity. “You either leave in one piece or a send your soul back up to your good-for-nothing, so-called-god. The choice is yours, really. I couldn’t care less. It would help relieve some tension to gank you, though.”

“Dean,” Cas interrupts weakly, looking up at me from the dirt. “You still have hope. We can cure you and then we can find Crowley and rescue Sam –“ 

“Yeah, well I think the word _rescue_ means something different to me. See Sammy went behind my back. He’s the whole reason my plan fell apart, so I’m going to make damn sure he never double crosses me again. Now leave!”

“No way,” Cas hisses, glaring at me with as much strength as he can muster; which isn’t much.

“Have it your way,” I reply casually before slicing the blade across his chest, creating a long, deep gash. I raise the weapon, ready to strike again, but Hannah grabs my arm. My eyes flick to black, and I meet her terrified gaze. “You really don’t want to mess with me, lady,” I growl, wrenching my arm from her grasp.

“We’ll leave,” She says hurriedly, stepping in front of the bleeding angel. “We won’t get in your way again – just please let me get him out of here.” She looks to me pleadingly, and a smirk spreads across my face.

I lower the blade, enjoying her helplessness. “Alright. Go.”

She presses her hand on Cas’ forehead, and the two are gone with the sound of swooshing wings.

I wipe the bloody knife against my jeans, appreciating the red stains it leaves behind. I’m not sure whether I should instantly go after Crowley and Sam, or if I should control my impatience and come up with a more thorough plan.

“Hello Dean Winchester,” A familiar voice says ominously. I look up to see four demons standing together in the road. They are all armed with stolen angel blades, gripping them tightly in anticipation. The speaker is Darren, a demon with a meat-suit stolen from a Hollywood actor.

Darren is accompanied by Cara, a particularly fine looking, blonde demon who I shared many _special_ moments with before I ditched Crowley’s secret headquarters. Beside her is a demon chick named Willow, who is standing in front of some other lady who is short and stalky. I don’t recognize her of them but I don’t give a damn anyway.

“Welcome to the party,” I say, rolling my eyes at the group. “Did Crowley send you to kill me because he’s ‘too busy with Sam’? Because if so I think we all know the reality is he knows he’s just not strong enough.”

“The King of Hell does not need to spend time dealing with scum like you,” the short demon snaps back proudly.

“Oh I’m sorry,” I reply, pretending to be apologetic. “I didn’t know dear old Crowley meant so much to you!” I lower my voice conspiratorially, wagging my eyebrows at her. “Let me guess: you two have an intimate night and you thought it was something more?”

“Stop it!” Cara shouts, stopping the banter.

“That wasn’t what you were saying last time we –“ 

“You have two choices, Dean Winchester,” Darren interjects. “Come with us to Crowley so he can kill you, or we end you right here, right now.” 

“Yeah, well, how about I give you two options,” I sneer back, uninterested in Darren’s shit. “You all run back to Crowley unharmed, or I make your lives a living hell – until I kill you, that is.”

“You’re outnumbered,” Willow pipes up uncertainty, stepping forward slowly.

I pull back my sleeve, revealing the Mark to the group. “You know what I can do with this thing,” I growl, raising the blade in my left hand. “But have you ever seen what I can do with _both_?” The group visibly quakes in fear, and a genuine smile forms on my face. “Who’s first?”

Darren makes a swiping motion with his hand, attempting to send me crashing down. All I feel is an unpleasant pulling feeling, but I stand my ground. I roll my eyes before lunging for him, sinking the blade into his stomach.

Light flickers from the wound, and he grabs my arm in a desperate attempt to push me off. A knife runs against my side, and I throw the quickly dying demon into my new attacker. Willow is sent sprawling under Darren’s weight, and I take a quick moment to allow my wound to heal over before lunging for the short lady.

She screams, swinging her angel blade frantically. She manages to nick me with it, and I reward her by creating a deep slash in her chest.

Pure, unaltered rage course through my veins. It’s better than booze and a strip club combined. Sweet power that is indescribable. I don’t know how I’ve gone most of my life without this feeling. 

Willow runs for me, but is stopped by a harsh kick to her side. She falls, her weapon tossed to the side as I loom over her menacingly. “No! Please!” She begs, shielding her face in an attempt to protect herself. 

“I gave you a choice earlier,” I remind her. “You should have taken it.” 

Suddenly there is a knife pressed against my neck, and I can feel Cara shaking behind me. “Drop the blade,” she commands, her voice stronger than I had expected.

“Really, Cara?” I laugh. “After all we’ve been through together?”

“I said drop it!”

“Well if you insist,” I say darkly, letting the blade fall at the perfect angle. It impales Willow’s stomach, and she screams as her whole body convulses as her demon spirit fades.

Cara’s hand falters just a tiny bit, and I use her momentary distraction to slip out from her grip. I drop kick her almost absentmindedly, pinning her down easily with my body weight, one arm trapped beneath my knee and the other held tightly in my right hand. I pry the angel blade from her, tossing it aside. She struggles fiercely, but I can see the fear in her eyes; she knows she doesn’t stand a chance. 

“Now Cara,” I say with mock-sweetness. “I thought we had some kind of bond with one another?”

“Screw you!” She spits in my face. I simply laugh, wiping away the saliva.

“Yeah, well, you already did that. Although I gotta say, you weren’t the best.” 

“Crowley won’t stop until you’re dead!” Cara barks back, fighting harder to get away. 

“Well I ain’t stoppin’ until he’s dead, so one of us is going to have to compromise.” I rise, grabbing her by the hair and throwing her into a puddle of muddy water. She roles over quickly, getting to her feet. I land a kick to her abdomen, sending her back down. “I’ve got a message for to deliver,” I say, stomping on her leg. She howls in pain, curling into herself in a vain attempt to block the blows. I kick her in the side just for the hell of it, reveling in her low groan of discomfort. I kneel beside her, tugging on her hair to keep her attention. “Tell Sammy that he still belongs to me, got that?” She remains silent, so I jolt her head back. “Got it?” 

“Yes,” Cara whimpers, looking at me with wide eyes. 

“And you tell Crowley that it’s his move.” 

“Are you going to let me live?” She asks timidly, the words tumbling from her lips. 

“Well it wouldn’t help me to kill the pretty messenger, now would it? But you had better hope that we never meet again, because you won’t be so lucky next time. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” I let her drop, stepping back. “Now go.” She disappears instantly, eager to escape me. I smirk in satisfaction, awaiting Crowley’s response, whatever it may be.

_I’ll see you soon, Sammy. And you’ll regret ever trying to double-cross me._


	9. Chapter 9

**_Sam_ **

I’ve been alone – except for the demons watching me from the dark corners- since that girl came to deliver Dean’s messages. Crowley ordered her to leave, which she did eagerly. The King had sat back in his throne, staring at me absentmindedly. 

I had stared back, trying not to focus on all the horrible things Crowley might have in mind for me. Just when I thought he was going to talk, he stormed out of the room, commanding some demons to keep an eye on me.

So here I’ve been, uncomfortably leaning against the side of the throne, waiting for something to happen. This place makes my skin crawl. Just the very thought that I’m so close to the Cage is terrifying, but I can’t expel the thought. Paranoia nags at me relentlessly, even as I try to take deep breaths and think of positive things.

But as hard as I try, I can’t think of anything positive at the moment. Dean is a demon, and I’m at the top of his revenge list. It’s bad enough to have Dean Winchester after you – he is a damn good hunter, after all – but to have a _demonic_ Dean Winchester on your trail is a whole other ballgame.

I know that if he gets his hands on me he won’t let up until I’m dead or no longer myself anymore. He wants me to be some crazy fighting machine, but there’s no way I would ever help him overturn Hell.

Although at the moment I’m not too fond of its current king, either. I haven’t seen Crowley like this in a long time. I guess Dean’s change of allegiance got to Crowley more than he will admit. Based on how they’ve been making it sound, they were a good team.

The thought hurts, even though I tell myself that it shouldn’t. I _know_ Dean isn’t himself because I wasn’t all that different when I lost my soul. We both killed and didn’t care. But then again…I didn’t feel anything. Dean takes _joy_ out of everything he’s been doing. It’s a whole new level of psychotic that I never thought I’d connect with my brother.

My body jolts suddenly, taking me by surprise. A deep pain begins in my side, quickly spreading into my stomach and up through my chest. I cry out, trying to suppress the all-too-familiar symptoms of blood withdrawal.

I try curling into myself, shielding my nose from the demons in the room, hoping to block out the scent of their blood. It’s faint, but it’s there, and that’s enough to make this all so much worse. 

“Get the boss!” A demon yells to someone, and I hear running feet exiting the room.

The migraine has begun, pounding against my skull relentlessly as if something is trying to get out. I hear myself whimper quietly, but I hardly care. My throat is parched – I’m so _thirsty_ and my body keeps jolting unexpectedly and my head is _throbbing_.

“Unchain him and follow me,” Crowley’s voice barks. Two sets of hands begin working on the metal cuffs, and I pull away out of instinct. I don’t know what Crowley has planned for me but now is _not the time_.

“Get away!” I shout, punching a demon square in the jaw.

“For goodness sake!” Crowley growls, grabbing me by the hair. “Do you want more blood or not?”

I stop struggling, blinking up at him instead. My head is swimming, and I try to focus but it’s difficult through the haze. I can smell my own sweat, and the scent of blood wavers off of the demons in front of me.

Crowley lets me go, waving his henchmen forward again to unchain me. “Very good. I suppose training you will be easier than I had thought.” He looks at me for a long moment. It’s very disconcerting, but I hold still – except for the small spasms that I cannot help racking my body – and allow the demons to take hold of my arms. “Just wait until dear old Dean sees you now. Huh.”

“Should we get someone else to help hold him, sir?” the demon on my left asks, his hands gripping me tightly. 

“What, are you not strong enough?” Crowley sneers at him. “Shall I send you out to catch his brother instead?”

“N-no sir!” The demon replies quickly, standing up straighter in an attempt to look tough. “I can hold him.”

It would seem that all of Hell is terrified of Dean, which doesn’t help my nerves in the slightest. I can’t blame them, of course. I’m pretty damn scared of Dean too, and he’s my own brother. The fact that he _is_ my brother is what makes him so scary, I think. If he were just a bad guy I could end him and move on. But even though I know I need to do whatever it takes to stop Dean, I don’t think I could bring myself to kill him. I’ve lost too many loved ones, and I won’t lose Dean, too.

“Besides,” Crowley drawls, cutting off my thoughts. “He won’t cause anymore problems. Will you, Moose?”

“It depends on what you’ve got planned,” I spit back, trying to tame the hunger inside of me and stay strong.

“You’ll see,” Crowley responds ominously. I roll my eyes, not in the mood for any games. But I let the demons walk me forward, following behind their king like faithful dogs. I can’t help feeling like an animal, as well. Much to my disgust, the metal collar is still around my neck, as they simply detached it from Crowley’s throne.

“Is this collar _really_ necessary, Crowley?” I snap, forcing the demons and I to a stop.

The King turns around slowly with a look of exasperation on his face. “Samantha,” he says, as if speaking to a small child. “I am in charge here. Which means that I call the shots. _You_ ,” he jabs his finger into my chest. “Do whatever I tell you to do. And if you try to fight me you will seriously regret it.”

“You’re pathetic,” I spit back, trying not to react to the tremors running through my body. “You really think I’ll help you? I’m not your _servant_ , Crowley!”

“Servant, lapdog, soldier, slave…” Crowley rattles off, stepping closer. “The title doesn’t matter. Either way you’re going to do what I say or suffer the consequences.”

“I’ve endured worse than you, Crowley. And I made it out and killed it. You’re no different.”

I’m not really surprised by the harsh slap to my face, so I simply hold my head higher. “You don’t want to cross me, _Winchester_!” Crowley bellows, grabbing my chin roughly. “I am the _king_ of _Hell_ and I have the power to bring you more pain than you have ever felt. Don’t forget that I have access to the bloody _Cage_ and all its monsters!” I feel my face pale, even though I try to remain stoic. “That’s right. I will _break_ you and you will regret ever fighting against me. Now _get moving_!”

Crowley wipes around, storming down the hallway. The demons holding my arms pull me after him. I consider fighting back but my head is in agony; as if someone shoved a knife into it.

We keep walking, my feet tripping me up a couple times as my whole body shakes. My brow is wet with sweat, my heartbeat going crazy. Finally we reach a heavy door guarded by two other demons. They nod to Crowley before letting us enter.

I’m met by the smell of burning flesh, which makes me stagger back. Screams pierce the air around us, coming from the locked metal doors lining both walls. There is a loud pounding from my right, and I look to see a gaunt face pressed against the small barred window.

“Please!” the tormented woman begs, eyes wide and empty.

“Winchester!” Another shout echoes through the hall. I locate the source: a young man to the left. His hands are grasping the bars; every part of him is impossibly thin. His expression is crazed, and my already anxious heartbeat skids in my chest. “ _You said you would save her_! _You_ _promised me_!”

“Who?” I ask dumbly, trying to distance myself as much as possible from the stranger. “What are you talking about?”

“My sister is dead because of you! You said you would stop them but you lied to me! I held her as she bled out because of _you_!” I look to Crowley, who is smirking at me, arms crossed comfortably over his chest. “You _monster_! You _murderer_!”

“I-I’m sorry,” I say helplessly to the livid man, shaking my head in protest. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I can’t remember, not now. I’ve seen too many die, let down too many people. Maybe if the man weren’t so sickly I would recognize him, but I can’t make him out.

“It’s time to move on,” Crowley commands over the sounds of the man’s curses. I try to shut out the sound, eagerly walking after the demon now, if only to escape what is held in this hall.

We continue on, my pace quickening so the demons have to speed up with me. _Finally_ we reach the end of the hall, exiting through another door and escaping the screams at last.

The vision hits me fast and without warning. Dean is walking into a gas station; there is a woman behind the counter, as well as two teenage boys gawking at some magazines. Suddenly Dean is standing over the clerk, the blade covered in blood. The boys are screaming, but in the next instant they have met the same fate.

I jolt back to the present, falling to my hands and knees in the dark room. Spasms wrack my whole body, and I cry out as an invisible force squeezes my insides.

“I don’t believe it,” an all too familiar voice laughs. I pull myself together to raise my head.

No, no, no. Shit.

“Sam Winchester came to visit me in Hell?” Ruby continues, coming into the light from where she had been curled up in the corner. She is obviously very unhealthy, her brown hair ragged and her limbs shaky. She wears a ripped tank top and ragged jeans, covered in dirt and dried blood. But that stupid part of my mind still finds her beautiful. That’s the same thought that got me into this whole mess to begin with, but it’s there anyway. “Are you _finally_ serving your time down here?”

“How are you alive?” I stammer, looking at her with wide eyes.

“You call this being _alive_?” She snaps, face livid. “I’m not _alive_ , Sam! I’m a tormented body that they refuse to set free! I don’t any semblance of _life_ left in me – If I ever left here I would turn into dust. Do you call that living?”

“Would you like to be set free, darling?” Crowley pipes in, coming into the room.

“What do you mean?” Ruby asks cautiously.

“I will finally let you die once and for all if you do me one simple favor.”

“And that would be?” Ruby replies, clearly interested.

“You’re going to help Sam here with his little addiction. He needs another dose.”

Ruby looks to me now, laughing again at my pitiful state. “You’re still hooked on demon blood?” She asks incredulously. “Well, at least there’s one thing I accomplished. You just can’t get past it, can you? You’re always be a blood-sucking freak.”

“No,” I retaliate, rising to a kneeling position – I can’t force my quivering body any higher, but it’s better than cowering. “I’ve been off of it for years. I _beat_ it!”

“Figures that the one to get you back on the ride would be your own brother,” Crowley interrupts gleefully.

“Shut up!” I snap, turning to face the demon. “This isn’t who he is and you’re the only one to blame for it!”

“Yes, tell yourself that if it will help you sleep at night, Samantha,” Crowley taunts, scoffing at me as if I were a child.

“Wait,” Ruby interjects, coming closer. “What are you talking about?”

“All that _you_ need to know,” Crowley spits, “Is that our little chosen one here is once again drinking demon blood. It just so happens that Dean used his new transformation to give Sam the push he needed all along.”

“Dean Winchester is a demon?” Ruby asks, sounding both incredulous and nervous. “How did that happen?”

“As I said, you don’t need to know anymore than that. The deal is that you are going to feed Sam your blood. Just like old times, eh?” Crowley smirks at me, continuing. “Minus some other _activities_ …”

“Shut up,” I snap. Every small irritation seems enormous at the moment. The cold of the stone floor is icy and my heartbeat is thudding in my head relentlessly. Everything Crowley and Ruby say fills me with rage.

“What do I get in return?” Ruby asks cautiously.

“I end all of this for you,” Crowley offers, letting his words take effect in the battered demon before us.

“Indefinitely?”

“Indefinitely,” Crowley confirms. “No more life. No more torture. No more pain. Just utter nothingness.”

“And if I don’t agree to your deal?”

“Then I throw you into the Cage forever.”

Ruby steps back at the very thought of being trapped in the Cage, and I can’t blame her. I still have nightmares about that place. The torment, the constant pain. The very thought of ever going back feels me with bone-chilling fear.

“Then yes,” Ruby replies instantly, not even stopping to think. “I will agree to your deal. We don’t have to kiss, do we?”

“Always the sassy one,” Crowley drawls, unimpressed. “No, we don’t have to kiss. Just follow your end of the bargain.”

“No,” I reply adamantly, shaking my head as extra defiance. I’m even able to keep most of the tremors out of my voice. “No way.”

Crowley waves his hand boredly, and suddenly a chain snakes out from the floor and attaches itself to the collar around my neck. The heavy metal pulls me down on my back, granting no slack for me to even attempt to get up. My head collides with hard floor, and I groan in pain as my eyes briefly lose focus.

Ruby settles herself on top of me, a smirk etched onto her face. “Come on, Sammy,” she coos, stroking my cheek in mock tenderness. “We used to be close, remember?”

“Of course I remember,” I spit back, pulling at the chain. “It was a mistake. I never should have trusted you.”

“Aw, Sammy, that hurts my feelings,” Ruby pouts, gripping my hair and pulling harshly. “You and I were a good team together. Blood, sex, we could have ruled the world if you hadn’t sent me down here,” she tugs on my hair harder until I hiss in pain.

“Just get on with it!” Crowley snaps from the corner.

“Do I get a knife or something?” Ruby asks, clearly irritated by the interruption.

Crowley pulls one from his pocket, handing it to her. “Try anything and you go straight to the Cage,” he warns darkly. Ruby glances at him before raising the knife, drawing it across her collarbone slowly.

The smell of fresh blood instantly fills my nose, and my heart begins to thud in my chest. I turn away, closing my eyes tightly in an attempt to restrain myself. I feel so pathetic, chained and hungry for my next feeding as if I were some kind of animal.

“Sam,” Ruby whispers, inches from my ear. The hairs on my neck stand on end, but I refuse to look at her. “You know you want it, you _need_ it.”

“Get off of me,” I respond resolutely, pushing away my instincts to simply give in.

I jump at the feeling of her mouth nibbling at my ear. I close my eyes tighter, all too aware of her blood dripping slowly onto my neck. She moves her lips lower, kissing down to my pulse point.

My heart is pounding, the smell of blood is making my nostrils flare, I can’t catch my breath. Everything is overwhelming, and I groan before I can stop myself, blinking up at the demon above me. Ruby wastes no time in taking advantage of my moment of weakness.

She presses the cut against my lips, and before I can push her away the blood trickles into my mouth. I lose the battle then, wrapping my arms around her to keep her body close. Her blood tastes just like it did all those years ago, and I continue drinking it in, senses on overdrive.

This goes on for who knows how long. The only thing that makes me the passing time is how Ruby has begun to sag on top of me. She finally pushes off of me, collapsing onto the filthy floor next to me. 

I take in gasping breaths, not having realized how long I had simply been drinking. I look to the demon beside me to see her panting weakly, but it is not any sort of ecstasy like it was in the past. She looks half dead, face even paler than it was when we entered the room. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; I did just drain her of a considerable amount of blood, after all.

I feel strong, the tremors gone from my body altogether. I wipe the excess blood from my chin, not at all surprised to see my hand painted red. My heart has calmed and my muscles feel rejuvenated. It’s a breath of fresh air as well as a spark of wild energy swelling in my chest.

I remember Crowley, looking up to see the demon standing in the corner. To my disgust he has a cell phone trained on me, a smug smile fixed on his face. If I could get up I would punch his lights out. I compromise for a glower instead.

“How are you feeling, Sam?” He asks, voice sounding genuinely curious.

“Screw you, Crowley,” I spit in his direction.

“Excellent,” he replies, not even bothered by my rude comeback. There is an unsettling glint in his eye, and he tucks the phone into his pocket before turning to Ruby. “As for you, it’s time to say goodbye.”

Ruby nods, relief evident in her face. “About damn time.”

Crowley flicks his wrist in her direction, and Ruby’s body fells completely limp, a light flickering from behind her eyes. I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt – she suffered down here because of me, after all. I have to remind myself that she deserved it after the hell she put me through. Still, we were close once, even if she was just manipulating me; she was all I had when Dean was gone.

“Are you going to let me up now?” I growl, looking back to Crowley.

He smirks at me, clearly enjoying my helplessness. “Not just yet,” he replies smoothly, turning towards the door.

“Wait!” I call out, eyes widening in surprise. “You’re just going to leave me here?” Panic creeps into me, no matter how hard I try to stay calm. I am in Hell, after all, chained to the ground next to a dead demon and pumped full of blood.

“For the time being. Be patient, Moose. All in due time.” With that Crowley opens the door, closing it shut slowly behind him. The pleas for help echo through the hallway again, before fading away as I’m plunged into darkness. The loud sound of a bolt is heard on the other side, a reminder that I’m utterly trapped in here.

“Damn it, Crowley!” I bellow, fighting against the chain locked onto my neck. “Let me out!” I’m not at all surprised when there is no reply, but it fills me with anger anyway. The only noise in the room is the clinking of the chain and my ragged breathing, which now seem overwhelming in the tiny, dark room. I just hope Crowley comes back before I’m driven insane like so many people are down here.

* * *

It’s several hours later when the door creaks open once again, or at least I think it’s been hours. I must have given into exhaustion at some point, because I feel groggy as if I had been asleep.

“Sorry for the wait,” Crowley speaks up, not sounding sorry at all. “It was easier to leave you here. I hope you enjoyed your time alone, because you won’t be getting much more of that anytime soon.” He waves his hand dismissively, letting the chain fall away. I get to my feet slowly, my legs protesting after going unused for so long. I choose not to say anything, since I know words won’t get me anywhere anyway. “Follow me,” Crowley orders. I obey, letting him lead me back through the hallway of jail cells. I keep my head down, doing my best to shut out the pleading from either side.

We finally exit the hall, the door shutting resolutely behind us. I jump when Crowley unexpectedly lands a hand on my arm, and I instinctively start to pull away. “Don’t test me, Sam,” he warns darkly, tightening his grip. I stare at him suspiciously, but don’t move. Crowley pulls a cloth from his pocket, wrapping it around my head as a blindfold. It takes everything in me not to put up a fight, instead letting him tie a knot behind me head.

He begins to lead me down a series of hallways and doors, keeping a firm hand on my shoulder at all times. I try to keep track of the turns, but there’s so many and I don’t know the layout well enough to remember.

We enter another door, and a cold, uncomfortable feeling hits me. The next moment I am breathing in fresh air, a cool breeze hitting my face. My heart jumps as I realize we’ve reemerged back on earth, no longer in Hell.

Crowley leads me a little bit further; make sharp turns here and there. Suddenly we duck into a shadowed area, and the blindfold is removed. I have to blink to adjust to the light, dim as it is. I glance around to see we are in an alleyway. I don’t recognize any of my surroundings, my heart dropping a little.

“Where are we?” I ask suspiciously, pulling away from Crowley’s now bruising grip.

“Wyoming,” Crowley replies offhandedly.

“The door to Hell is in Wyoming?” I ask incredulously.

“Of course,” Crowley responds as if it’s obvious. “Why do you think there’s so much sulfur in Yellowstone National Park? But that doesn’t matter now,” I blink at that, taken aback by his words. “You are going to find your brother. Or he is going to find _you_ , whichever comes first.”

“Are you insane?” I ask, panicked by the thought. “Dean wants both of us _dead_! How is it going to help you if he kills me? I thought you wanted to keep me around?”

“You’ll be watched at all times,” Crowley clarifies, as if it were obvious. “I have demons planted all over to keep an eye on you.”

“So I’m bait?” I growl, glaring at the demon before me. “No way. I’m not going to let myself get tortured again so you can kill my _brother_. Not gonna happen.”

Crowley lashes out, grabbing my arm and using it to pin me against the wall of the building next to us. He raises my arm behind my back until I’m sure it’s about to snap. Tears jump into my eyes, but I grit my teeth against the pain, not willing to let out a sound.

“You’ll do _exactly_ what I say,” Crowley whispers dangerously in my ear. “Or you will spend all of eternity in the Cage. You’ll be ripped apart again and again, but you won’t be able to die, even though you’ll want to. I’ll make sure it’s even worse than it was last time.” My heart flutters in my chest, beating faster just at the thought of the Cage. “Now do we have a deal?”

I remain silent for a moment, until Crowley pulls my arm up harshly. “Yes,” I give in, closing my eyes in defeat. “We have a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Options for next chapter:
> 
> Option 1: Dean finds Sam and manages to elude Crowley’s demons. Now that the brothers are alone again Dean is able to let out all of his anger towards Sam.
> 
> Option 2: Sam runs from Dean and Crowley’s demons, but struggles with his blood addiction when he doesn’t have anyone to feed off of.


End file.
